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PS 1744 ^''* 

.G57 S6 !. No. 61. 

1911 === 
Copy 1 



JUNE 1911 



1 HE ForeKuhneR 



BY 



CKarlotte Perkios Gilman. 




CONTENTS 



Something To Vote For. 
A Diet Undesired. 
Happiness and Religion. 
The Crux. Chapter VI. 
Stones. 



The Wild Oat. of the Soul. 

That Obvious Purpose. 

Moving the Mountain. Chapter VI. 

"N. G." 

Comnient and Review. 



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THE FORERUNNER 

A Monthly Magazine 
WRITTEN, EDITED, OWNED AND PUBLISHED 

By 

Charlotte Perkins Gilman 



"THE CRUX" . 

Mrs. Gilman's new novel, appears in 
THE FORERUNNER, of 1911 

This touches upon one of the most vivid and vital of our marriage problems; 
and has more than one kind of love story in it. Also, published serially, 
her next book, 

"Moving the Mountain'' 

Tliose who believe this world is a good place, easily made better, and who 
wish to know how to help it, will enjoy reading this book. Those who do 
not so believe and wish may not enjoy it so much, but it will do them good., 

The Forerunner carries Mrs. Gilman's best and newest work; her social 
philosophy, her verse, satire, fiction, ethical teaching, humor, and com- 
ment. It stands for Humanness in Women, and in Men ; for better 
methods in Child-culture ; for the Home that is no Workshop ; for the New 
Ethics, the New Economics, the New World we are to make — are making. 

THE FORERUNNER for 1910,. bound, $1.25 
THE FORERUNNER 8a"Sdiai-~ ri'i:?S * ^f*' 

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CHARLTON CO.. 67 WALL ST.. NEW YORK -lO » •«»Py 

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Please find iaolaaed $ m •obsoriptioa te "The Porcnuuer" fron 

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The Forerunner 



WiUt Btanttia Biti 



A NOVEL 



BY 



Charlotte Perkins Oilman 



FROM OUR REVIEWS 



"What Diantha Did" is a sensible book; it 
gives a new and deserved comprehension of 
the importance and complexity of housekeep- 
ing. . . . We would not undervalue Mrs. 
Oilman's attempt to let some light in upon the 
distracting situation of woman in domestic 
work. It is needed there if in any business in 
the world. — The Independent. 

Mrs. Oilman is as full of ideas as ever, and 
her Diantha is a model for all young women. 
. . . Diantha's plans may well furnish a so- 
lution to the problems of domestic life that 
have long been pressing intolerably upon the 
American woman, and are by no means 
negligible in European countries. — The Eng- 
lishwoman. 

The story is full of action and humorous 
situations. . . . Diantha is a clever and 
most engaging young woman, and her experi- 
ence is related in such a manner, with facts 



and figures, as to be of practical value to other 
aspiring housekeepers. — Chicago Socialist. 

What she did was to solve the domestic 
service problem for both mistress and maid in 
a southern California town ; and she illustrated 
in her own life Mrs. Oilman's theory that a 
wife, mother and housekeeper can easily be 
also a business man. — The Survey. 

The interest in all this lies partly in the 
reader's continual questioning of the possibility 
of such results and the shrewdness with which 
Mrs. Oilman meets these inevitable questions 
with trenchant facts and incontestable figures. 
At the end one may not be convinced, but one 
has been impressed. The kitchen, whose sor- 
did demands have thwarted the aspirations of 
so many women and prevented any measure 
of real life, has a real interest in the hands of 
such a serious and clever writer. — The Chicago 
Evening Post. 



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The Forerunner 



The Man-made World 



Or, 



Our Androcentric Culture 



BY 



CHARLOTTE PERKINS OILMAN 



"Since the beg-innin:^ of recorded history the most civiHzed part of 
our world has held that woman was at the bottom of all the evil from 
which we are suffering. Now comes a woman who tells us that it is 
all the other way. In so far as the world is bad, she says, it is so 
because man has made it to suit himself, without regard for woman's 
ways and woman's needs. 

"Furthermore, this woman says that for six thousand years, at least, 
man has been writing books about woman, as woman making her out 
to be everything but what she really is. This one woman is tired of the 
process. She wants to get even with man, and so she has written a 
book about man — as man. She knows that he will not like it, but she 
does not care. For she feels that the world can never become what it 
ought to be until woman gets a hand at its remaking, and for this 
reason the truth must be told first of all. 

"Of the future Mrs. Oilman says this in conclusion : "The scope and 
purpose of human life is entirely above and beyond the field of sex 
relationship. Women are human beings, as much as men, by nature; 
and as women, they are even more sympathetic with human processes. 
To develop human life in its true powers we need full equal citizen- 
ship for woman." — A^. V. Times, Sunday, January 15, 191 1. 



Mailed post-paid Price, $L00 

THE CHARLTON COMPANY 

67 Wall Street, New York City 



VoliHTie II. No. 6 



THE 



JUNE, 1911 



1.00 A YEAR 



FORERUNNER 

A MONTHLY MAGAZINE 

BY 

CHARLOTTE PERKINS GILMAN 

AUTHOR, Owner & Publisher 
67 Wall Street, New York 



10 A COPY 



COPYRIGHT 1911 C. P. GILMAN 
ENTERED IN NEW YORK POST OFFICE, N. Y., OCTOBER 29. 1909, AS SECOND-CLASS MATTER 

Parental duty is a law of Nature. 

Filial duty is a virtue invented by the Patriarchs. 



SOMETHING TO VOTE 

A One Act Play 



FOR 



JUN 6 1811 



TIME, 50 MINUTES. 
PEOPLE IN THE PLAY. 

Mrs. May Carroll: A young, beautiful, rich 
widow; an "Anti" ; President of Woman's 
Club; social leader. 

Dr. Strong: A woman doctor, from Colo- 
rado, interested in Woman Suffrage and 
pure milk. 

Miss Carrie Turner: Recording Secretary 
of Club; a social aspirant; agrees with 
everybody; "Anti." 

Mrs. RtEDWAY : Corresponding Secretary of 
Club; amiable, elderly nonentity; "Anti." 

Mrs. Wolverhampton : Rich, impressive, 
middle-aged matron; "Anti." 

Mrs. O'Shane: A little woman in black; 
thin, poor. 

Louise: A maid. 

Club Women : Mrs. Black, White, etc. 

Mr. Henry Arnold: A Milk Inspector. 

Mr. James Billings : Head of the Milk Trust. 

Place — A parlor, porch or garden, belong- 
ing to Mrs. Carroll. 

Properties Required — Chairs enough, a 
small table, a small platform covered with a 
rug, a table bell, tzvo pitchers, a glass, a vase; 
two milk bottles filled zvifh water, starch and 
a little black dirt; a yellow-backed bill, some 
red ink, a small buncJi of flozvers, tzvo large 
clean handkerchiefs, a small bottle of iodine, 
a teacup. Miss Turner has a bag for her 
papers, and Dr. Strong an instrument bag or 
something similar, also a large pocket-book. 

SOMETHING TO VOTE FOR. 

{Chairs arranged at right, platform, 
with table and three chairs at left 
front. Doors at left, right and center.) 

(Enter Miss Turner and Mrs. Rced- 
Zi'ay, I.) 



Copyright, 1911 

By Charlotte Perkins Oilman 

Mrs. Reedway — Dear me! I was so 
afraid we'd be late ! 

Miss Turner — {Looking at watch.) 
Oh, no ! The meeting begins at three 
you know, and it's only quarter past ! 

Mrs. Reedway — {Drawing scarf 
about her.) I wish it would get warmer! 
I do Hke warm weather! 

Miss Turner — So do I ! 

Mrs. Reedway — What a lovely place 
Mrs. Carroll has ! I think we are ex- 
tremely fortunate to have her for our 
president. 

Miss Turner — So do I ! She's so 
sweet ! 

Mrs. Reedway — I hear she has asked 
Mr. Billings to this milk discussion. 

Miss Turner — Yes — you're not sur- 
prised are you ? 

Mrs. Reedway — Oh, no! Every one 
is talking about them. He's been con- 
spicuously devoted to her for some time 
now. I think it's her money he's after. 

Miss Turner — So do I ! But she's 
crazy about him ! 

Mrs. Reedway — I suppose she thinks 
he's disinterested — being so rich himself. 
But I've heard that he'd lose a lot if this 
milk bill goes through. 

Miss Turner — So have I ! 

{Enter Dr. Strong. I.) 

Dr. Strong — Sorry to be late. I was 
detained by a patient. 

Miss Turner — Oh, you're not late, 
Dr. Strong. The ladies are usually a lit- 
tle slow in gathering. 



pf^il'V^^ 



And about what 
really begin ^ 



144 



Dr. Strong — I see ! 
time do your meetings 

Miss Turner — About half past three, 
usually. 

Dr. Strong — Next time I'll come 
then. I could have seen two more pa- 
tients—I hate to see women so un- 
punctual. 

Miss Turner — So do I ! This is Mrs. 
Reedway, our corresponding secretary. 
Dr. Strong. (They shake hands.) 

Mrs. Reedway — You must remember, 
Dr. Strong, that our members are not 
— as a whole — professional women. 

Dr. Strong — More's the pity ! 

(Enter Airs. Wolverhampton, I.) 

Mrs. Wolverhampton — Well, well ! 
Not started yet? But you're always on 
hand, Miss Turner. (Fans herself.) 
Bless me, how hot it is ! I do hate hot 
weather. 

Miss Turner — So do I. 

Mrs. Reedway — Have you met our 
new member, Mrs. Wolverhampton? Dr. 
Strong, of Colorado. (Mrs. IV. bozvs. 
comes forzvard and shakes 



me 



Dr. S 
hands. ) 

Mrs. Wolverhampton — Dear 
From Colorado ! And I suppose you 
have voted ! 

Dr. Strong — I certainly have. You 
seem to think I look like it. 

Mrs. Wolverhampton. — Why, yes; 
if you'll pardon me, you do. 

Dr. Strong — Pardon you? It seems 
to me a compliment. We're very proud 
of being voters — in my country. 

(Mrs. R. and Mrs. W. draw aside and 
converse in lozv tones. Miss T. fussily 
arranges papers; she has a large flat hag, 
and is continually diznng into it and 
fumbling about.) (Enter Mrs. Car- 
roll, c.) 

Mrs. Carroll — Pardon me, ladies ! 
I'd no idea it was so late. (Greets them 
all). 

Miss Turner — Dear Mrs. Carroll ! 
Would you accept these flowers ? 

Mrs. Carroll — How charming of 
you. Miss Turner ! They are lovely. 
(Siveeps tozvard Dr. S., both hands out, 
c.) My dear Doctor! I feel so glad and 
proud to have you with us ! ( Turns to 
others.) You know, Mrs. Wolverhamp- 
ton, Dr. Strong saved my mother's life! 
If she had come here sooner I'm sure 
she would have saved my baby ! And 



Something To Vote For ^ ■ - 

she's going to be such a help to our .-lub, 
aren't you, Doctor? 

Dr. Strong — I'm not so sure of that, 
Mrs. Carroll. I'm afraid this isn't the 
sort of club I'm used to. 

Mrs. Carroll — It's the sort of a club 
that needs you, Doctor! (Takes Dr.'s 
arm and sits dozvn zvith her.) Make 
yourselves quite at home, ladies, the 
others will be here presently. (Miss T., 
Mrs. R. and Mrs. W. go out, c.) We've 
got everything arranged. Doctor. I'm 
going to have a bottle of the Billings Co. 
milk tested, and ]\Ir. Billings himself is 
to be here. 

Dr. Strong — That may be awkward. 

Mrs. Carroll — Oh, no ! The milk is 
all right — I've taken it for years. And I 
think he's a very line man. 

Dr. Strong. — (Drily.) So I hear. 

Mrs. Carroll — You mustn't believe 
all you hear. Doctor. 

Dr. Strong — I don't. But I hope it 
isn't true. 

Mrs. Carroll — Hope what isn't true? 

Dr. Strong — About you and Mr. 
Billings. 

Mrs. Carroll — Never mind about me 
and Mr. Billings ! The question is have 
you got the new Inspector to come ? 

Dr. Strong — ^Yes, he'll be ready on 
time — but the club won't, I'm afraid. 

Mrs. Carroll — Oh, a few moments 
won't matter, I'm sure. It's a Mr. Ar- 
nold you said — do you know his initials? 

Dr. Strong — His name's Henry T. 
Arnold. I believe he's honest and efifi- 
cient. 

Mrs. Carroll — (Meditatively.) I 
used to go to school with a boy named 
Harry Arnold — he was the very nicest 
boy in the room. I think he liked me 
pretty well 

Dr. Strong — And I think you liked 
him pretty well — eh? 

Mrs. Carroll — Oh, well ! That was 
years ago ! 

Dr. Strong — (Suddenly.) By the 
way, Mrs. Carroll, have you any red ink ? 

AIrs. Carroll — Red ink? 

Dr. Strong — Yes, red ink — can you 



get me some? 

Mrs. Carroll — Why, I'm sure I 
don't know. Let me see — I did have 
some — it's right here — if there is any. 
(Goes out r. and returns zvith red ink.) 

Dr. Strong — Thank you. (Takes out 



The Forerunner 



145 



a yellozv - backed bill, and deliberately 
marks it.) 

Mrs. Carroll — How exciting! What 
do you do that for, Doctor? 

Dr. Strong — Just a habit of mine. 
Some day I may see that again and then 
I'd know it. 

]Mrs. Carroll — Do you mark all your 
money ? 

Dr. Strong — Oh, no. Only some of 
it. And now will you do me a real 
favor ? 

Mrs. Carroll — Indeed I will ! 
Dr. Strong — Please do not make any 
remark about this bill if you see me 
change it ! ! 

INIrs. Carroll — How mysterious ! I 
won't say a word. 

Dr. Strong — (Putting azuay bill.) 
You said I might bring along one of my 
patients, for evidence, and I have. I've 
got little Mrs. O'Shane here to tell them 
how it affects the poor people. 

Mrs. Carroll — That will be interest- 
ing, I'm sure — where is she? 

Dr. Strong — Waiting outside — I 
couldn't induce her to come in. 
Mrs. Carroll — I'll bring her in. 
(Exit Mrs. C, I., returns zvith a small 
shabby zvomen in black, zvho shrinks into 
the chair farthest back and sits silent. 
Mrs. Carroll — It's very good of you 
to come, Mrs. O'Shane; we're so much 
obliged ! 

(Enter Louise, I.) 
Louise — Mr. Arnold, Ma'am. 
Mrs. Carroll — Show him in, Louise. 
(Exit Louise. Enter Mr. Arnold, I.) 

Dr. Strong— Mrs. Carroll— Mr. Ar- 
nold, 

Mrs. Carroll — It is Harry Arnold, I 
do believe ! But you don't remember me ! 
Mr. Arnold — Don't remember little 
May Terry ! The prettiest girl in school ! 
I've never forgotten her. But I did not 
expect to find you here. 

Mrs. Carroll — I'm glad to welcome 
you to my home, Mr. Arnold, as well as 
to our club. And how are you — get- 
ting on? 

Mr. Arnold — Nothing to boast of 
Mrs. Carroll, if you mean in dollars and 
cents. I like public work you see, and 
the salaries are not high. 

Mrs. Carroll — But some of our offi- 
cials get very rich, don't they? 



Mr. Arnold — Yes, some of them do, 
— but not on their salaries. 

Dr. Strong — If you knew more about 
politics, Mrs. Carroll, you would think 
better of Mr. Arnold for not making 
much. And he an Inspector, too! 

Mrs. Carroll — You don't mean that 
our public men are bribed, surely! 

Dr. Strong — It's been known to oc- 
cur. 

Mrs. Carroll — Oh, I can't believe 
that such things go on — here ! Did any 
one ever bribe you, Mr. Arnold? 

Mr. Arnold — Some have tried. 

Mrs. Carroll — Not in this town, 
surely. 

Mr. Arnold — Not yet. 

Dr. Strong — He's only just appoint- 
ed, Mrs. Carroll. 

Mr. Arnold — Thanks to you, Dr. 
Strong. 

Dr. Strong — Yes, I guess I did help. 
(Enter Louise, L) 

Louise — Mr. Billings. 

Mrs. Carroll — Ask him to come in. 
(Exit Louise, I. Enter Mr. Billings, I.) 
Good afternoon, Mr. Billings. Let me 
present you to my dear friend, Dr. 
Strong — our new member. And Mr. 
Arnold you probably know — the Milk 
Inspector. (Mr. Billings approaches Dr. 
Strong, zvho bozvs stiffly. He shakes 
hands amiably ztnth Mr. Arnold.) 

Mr. Billings— Well, Mr. Arnold, I 
think we're going to make an impression 
on these ladies. I trust you'll deal gent- 
ly with me. 

Mr. Arnold — I'll do the best I can, 
Mr. Billings. I didn't expect to have 
the head of the Milk Trust in my audi- 
ence. 

Mrs. Carroll — That is all my fault, 
Mr. Arnold. I have taken milk of Mr. 
Billings' company for years, and it's al- 
ways good. And I want the ladies to 
know it. Mr. Billings can stand the 
test. 

jMr. Arnold — I'm glad to hear it, 
Mrs. Carroll. 

]Mr. Billings — (Genially.) You'll 
show up all of us rascally milk-men I 
don't doubt. 

Mr. Arnold— I hope not. (Mr. Bil- 
lings goes to Mrs. Carroll. They talk 
apart. Dr. Strong confers zdth Mr. 
Arnold.) 

Dr. Strong— (To Mr. Arnold.) Now 



146 



Something To Vote For 



Mr. Arnold watch me, and be sure you 
play up. Say you can't make change 
for this bill! (Goes to Mr. Billings.) 
Mr. Billings — can you — and will you — 
change this bill for me? Mr. Arnold 
here can't make it. 

Mr. Arnold — I'm sorry, Doctor. But 
I haven't seen a hundred dollar bill in 
some time. 

Mrs. Carroll — Perhaps I can — 

Mr. Billings — No indeed, Mrs. Car- 
roll ! I shall be delighted. Dr. Strong, — 
if I have that much about me. (Brings 
out bills from pockets and makes up the 
amount.) 

Dr. Strong — Thank you, Mr. Bil- 
lings. (Gives him her marked bill. The 
club members are seen arriving in back- 
ground, c. Returning to Mr. A.) What 
figures have you brought, Mr. Arnold? 
I don't want to cross your trail. (They 
confer apart.) 

Mr. Billings — (To Mrs. Carroll.) 
Isn't it rather a new thing for you to 
interest yourself in public matters, Mrs. 
Carroll? 

Mrs. Carroll — Oh, but milk is really 
a domestic matter — don't you think so? 
So many of our ladies are getting 
interested in it. 

Mr. Billings — I suspect that is be- 
cause you are ! I do not think you 
realize your influence in this town. 

Mrs. Carroll — I'm sure you overesti- 
mate it. 

Mr. Billings — Not in the least ! Look 
at the way you swing this club ! And 
these are the society lights — all the other 
women follow. And the men are yours 
to command anyhow ! I tell you such 
an influence as yours has Woman Suf- 
frage beaten to a standstill ! 

Mrs. Carroll — Oh ! — Woman Suf- 
frage! (With great scorn. Enter Mrs. 
Wolverhampton, c.) 

Mrs. Wolverhampton — Pardon me 
Mrs, Carroll, but it is half past three. 

Mrs. Carroll — Dear me ! yes, we 
must come to order. (Ladies all come in 
and take seats. Some polite confusion. 
Mrs. Carroll in the chair. Mrs. O'Shane 
and Mr. Billings at extreme right, be- 
hind others but near front of stage.) 
Platform, table, etc., I. front.) 

Mrs. Carroll — (Rising.) Ladies, and 
— gentlemen, — I — er — as you all know, 
I can't make a speech, — and I'm not in 



the least fit to be the president of a club — 
but you would have it you know ! (Mur- 
mur of approval; faint applause.) I am 
very glad to welcome you to my home, 
and I'm sure I hope we shall all enjoy 
meeting here. (Adore faint applause.) I 
don't suppose it's very business like — 
but the very first thing I want to do is to 
introduce our new member, Dr. Strong 
of Col. (Mrs. C. sits. Dr. S. rises and 
bozvs.) O do come forward to the plat- 
form. Doctor, where we can all see you. 

Dr. Strong — (Coming to platform.) 
Madam President — Ladies — and gentle- 
men ! I did not expect to be sprung on 
you until after the reading of the 
minutes at least. But I am very glad to 
meet you and to feel that you have 
honored me with membership in what I 
understand is the most influential wom- 
an's club in this community. I have 
heard that this is a very conservative 
club, but I find that you are interesting 
yourselves in one of the most vital move- 
ments of our time — a question of practi- 
cal politics — Pure Milk. (The ladies cool 
and stiffen at the word "politics.") It is 
a great question — a most important ques- 
tion — one that appeals to the mother- 
heart and housekeeping sense of every 
woman. It is a matter of saving money 
and saving life — the lives of little chil- 
dren ! I do not know of any single issue 
now before us which is so sure to make 
every woman want to vote. The ballot 
is our best protection. (Cries of "no!" 
"no" Much confusion and talking among 
members. One hiss. Mrs. Wolverhamp- 
ton rises ponderously.) 

Mrs. Wolverhampton — Madam 
President ! I rise to a point of order ! I 
move you that our new member be in- 
formed that all discussion of woman suf- 
frage is forbidden by the by-laws of this 
club! There is no subject so calculated 
to disrupt an organization. 

Mrs Black — Madam President! 

Mrs. Carroll — Mrs. Black. 

Mrs. Black — I wish to second the 
motion ! We decided long ago to allow 
no discussion of woman suffrage ! I con- 
sider it to be one of the most dangerous 
movements of our time ! 

Mrs. White — Madam President! 

Mrs. Carroll — Mrs. White. Won't 
you come forward, Mrs. White? 

Mrs. White — O no, excuse me — no. 



The Forerunner 



147 



I'll speak from here. I merely wish to 
agree with the previous speaker. Wom- 
an suffrage breaks up the home. 

Mrs. Grey — Madam President! 

Mrs. Greex — Madam President. 

Mrs. Carroll — Airs. Grey I think 
spoke first. In a moment, Mrs. Green. 
Mrs. Gray. I just want to say that I for 
one should feel obliged to resign if 
woman suffrage is to be even mentioned 
in the club ! 

Mrs, Green — Madam President ! 

Mrs. Brown — Madam President ! 

Mrs. &c — Madam President! {There 
has been a constant buzz of disap- 
proval. ) 

Mrs. Carroll — Ladies ! One at a 
time, please! {Several ladies are on 
their feet. All speak together.) 

Mrs. Green — A woman's place is in 
the home, Madam President! If she 
takes good care of the home and brings 
up her children right — 

Mrs. Brow^n — Women are not fitted 
for politics, they haven't the mind for it 
— and my husband says politics is not fit 
for women, either ! 

Mrs. Jones — This club decided long 
ago that it was against woman suffrage 
— et al. Who'd take care of the baby? 

Our power is through our feminine in- 
fluence — 

Yes — a woman's influence. — {Great 
confusion.) 

Mrs. Carroll — {Rapping feebly on 
the table.) Ladies, ladies, we will ad- 
journ for some refreshments. Won't 
you please all come and have some tea? 
{All go out, c. and r. still talking. Mrs. 
C. and Mr. B. last. Dr. S. and Mr. A 
remain.) 

Mr. Arnold— (To Dr. S.) Well, Dr. 
Strong, you did put your foot in it ! 

Dr. Strong — [Ruefully.) Yes — that 
was unfortunate, wasn't it? I'd no idea 
they'd fly up like that, 

Mr. Arnold — Never mind. I'll only 
talk milk to 'em — pure milk ! 

Dr. Strong — {Walks up and dozvn, 
hands behind her, much perturbed.) I'm 
right sorry to have annoyed those wom- 
en. This is an awfully important oc- 
casion. Even if they can't vote, they 
could do something. 

Mr, Arnold — Don't you fret. Doctor, 
we'll get them interested. 

Dr. Strong — You don't know how 



important this is. The death rate among 
the babies here is something shameful — 
it's mostly owing to bad milk — and the 
bad milk is mostly owing to this man 
Billings. If this bill passes he's got the 
whole thing in his hands ! And he's 
crooked ! 

Mr. Arnold — I'd about come to that 
conclusion, myself. 

Dr. Strong — He's got her confidence 
you see — and she swings this town, so- 
cially. What's more, he means to marry 
her — and he's not a fit man to marry 
any decent woman. We've got to put a 
spoke in his wheel, Mr. Arnold ! 

Mr. Arnold — I'm willing. 

Dr. Strong — You'll never get a better 
opportunity than right now ! He'll try 
to fix you before you speak — I'll promise 
you that ! and do you stick out for that 
hundred dollar bill — and take it ! 

Mr. Arnold — I guess not ! What do 
you think I am? 

Dr. Strong — I think you're man 
enough to see this game through. It's a 
marked bill, I tell you ! You take that 
hundred and look at it — if there's a 
speck of red in the middle on the top 
— on both sides — you take it, and bring 
it out in evidence after you've shown 
up the milk ! 

Mr. Arnold — But the milk he sends 
here'll be all right. 

Dr. Strong — Of course! But I've 
brought in another bottle in my bag — 
and I'm going to substitute it ! It's his 
milk, all right — the common grocery 
store kind — you'll be safe with the iodine 
test. Sh ! You take that bill ! 
{Re-enter Mrs. C. c. bringing tea to Mrs. 
O' Shane.) 

Mrs. Carroll— (To Mrs. 0.) We are 
really much indebted to you for coming, 
Mrs. O'Shane — I hope you are quite 
comfortable? 

Mrs. O'Shane — Thank you Ma'am, 
thank you kindly ! 

Mrs. Carroll — {Crossing to Dr. S.) 
Now Dr. Strong, you musn't be angry 
because our ladies are not suffragettes. 

Dr. Strong — Not a bit — I'm only 
sorry I mentioned it — I'm here to talk 
milk — not suft'rage. 

Mrs, Carroll — That's so nice of you ! 
Now do go out and get some tea, doc- 
tor. {E.rit Dr. S. r.) 

Mrs. Carroll — I suppose you're 



148 



Something To Vote For 



going to be very impressive Mr. Arnold ! 
You were as a boy, you know ! 

Mr. Arnold — Was I? I don't re- 
member that. 

Mrs. Carroll — Yes, indeed. You 
used to brush your hair, — when you did 
brush it — in a way I thought extremely 
fine. 

]\Ir. Arnold — And yours was always 
brushed! Beautiful long soft curls! I 
used to wish I dared touch them ! 

Mrs. Carroll — My hair's grown so 
much darker since then, and I'm getting 
grey. 

Mr. Arnold — (Drawing nearer.) 
Grey! It's a libel! Not a single one. 

Mrs. Carroll — There were — two or 
three — but, to speak confidentially, I 
pulled them out. 

Mr. Arnold — It wasn't necessary. 
You will be still more beautiful with 
grey hair ! 

Mrs. Carroll — You didn't make com- 
pliments at thirteen. 

Mr. Arnold — No — I didn't dare. 

Mrs. Carroll — And how do you dare 
now. 

Mr. Arnold — The courage of desper- 
ation, I suppose. Here you are, still 
young, more beautiful than ever — the 
richest woman in the town ; the social 
leader; able to lift and stir all these 
women — and here am I, a lot older than 
you are — and nothing but a milk inspec- 
tor! 

Mrs. Carroll — You haven't had 
much personal ambition, have you? 

Mr. Arnold — No, I haven't. But I 
might — if I were encouraged. 

Mrs. Carroll — Mr. Arnold ! I am so 
glad to find you are my old friend. And 
to think that you do — perhaps — value 
my opinion. 

Mr. Arnold — You're right as to that. 
That's what discouraged me when you 
married Carroll ; and when I heard that 
you had become a mere society woman — 
You've got a good mind, always had, but 
you don't use it. 

Mrs, Carroll — You do think I have a 
mind then? 

Mr. Arnold — Indeed I do! A first- 
class one ! 

Mrs. Carroll — Then let me persuade 
you to speak for this milk bill, Mr. 
Arnold ! And I do hope in your speech — 
you'll mention the excellent influence — 



on the milk, you know — of Mr. Billings' 
company. 

Mr. Arnold — Why — I shall have to 
tell what I know, Mrs. Carroll; you 
want the facts. 

Mrs. Carroll — Of course we want 
the facts ! But — having Mr. Billings' 
milk to be tested — and Mr. Billings 
here — and he being a good friend of 
mine — I'm particularly anxious to have 
his reputation thoroughly established. 

Mr. Arnold — I see. And if I said 
anything against Mr. Billings, we should 
meet as strangers? 

Mrs. Carroll— Not at all, Mr. Arn- 
old ! It's the milk we're talking about 
— not Mr. Billings. 

Mr. Arnold — I beg pardon — I under- 
stand ! (Re-enter Mr. B. c. Exit Mr. 
A. r.) 

Mr. Billings — (Coming to Mrs. C.) 
I began to think I shouldn't have a 
chance to see you at all ! 

Mrs. Carroll — Why I'm quite con- 
spicuous, I'm sure, — in the chair ! 

Mr. Billings — Ah! But I like best to 
see you alone ! 

Mrs. Carroll — No one sees me when 
I'm alone ! 

Mr. Billings — You can joke about it, 
Mrs. Carroll; it is a very serious matter 
to me. You must know how much I 
care for you — how long I have been de- 
voted to you. You know I'm an ambi- 
tious man, Mrs. Carroll. I must be to 
dare hope for you! There are things I 
can't speak of yet — big chances in poli- 
tics — if I had you with me — with your 
beauty and fascinating ways — By Hea- 
vens ! There's no place I wouldn't try for. 
(Walks up and doivn excitedly.) I 
never wanted anything so much in my 
life — as I want you. When will you 
give me an answer? 

Mrs. Carroll — Certainly not now, 
Mr. Billings. 

Mr. Billings — W^hen the meeting is 
over? 

Mrs. Carroll— Perhaps— when the 
meeting is over. 

(Enter Miss Turner c. with bag and 
papers.) 

Mrs. Carroll (rises, and goes to her. 
Mr. B. turns oway)— Well, Miss Tur- 
ner, are you going to set us to work 
again ? 



The Forerunner 



149 



Miss Turner — I hope I don't inter- 
rupt 

AIrs. Carroll — Interrupt! Why this 
is a club meeting. Miss Turner ! Are 
we ready now? 

Miss Turner — Perhaps, if you'd have 
the maid bring in the sample. 

Mrs. Carroll — Oh, yes. (Rings. 
Enter maid r.) 

Mrs. Carroll — Bring in the bottle of 
milk, Louise. (Exit maid r. Re-enter 
Dr. S. and Mr. A. c.) 

Mrs. Billings (jocularly) — I'm to 
be the scapegoat for the sins of the 
whole community, I see ! 

Mrs. Carroll — You are going to 
clear the good name of our milk sup- 
ply, Mr. Billings. 

(Re-enter maid r. witJi bottle of milk, 
sets it on table I. f.) 

Mrs. Carroll — Here it is ! The best 
milk in town. (They all approach 
table.) 

Mr. Billings (takes it up) — That's 
mine, all right. Name blown in the bot- 
tle, sealed with paraffine, air-tight from 
cow to customer, Mr. Arnold ! 

Mr. Arnold (examining bottle) — 
Looks like good milk, Mr. Billings. 

Mr. Billings — It is good milk, ]\Ir. 
Arnold; there's none better in the mar- 
ket! We're not afraid of your exam- 
ination. 

Mr. Arnold — Do you send out a uni- 
form quality? 

Mr. Billings — Well, hardly that, of 
course. W^e have some with less butter 
fat, comes a cent or two lower — but it's 
all pure milk. 

Dr. Strong (to A. aside) — Get 'em to 
look at your papers — call 'em off! 

Mr. Arnold — Have you seen our of- 
ficial cards, Mrs. Carroll? (Takes out 
papers. They turn to him. The doctor 
whips out bottle of milk from her bag 
and changes it for the one on the table. 
Billings hears her and turns around. 
Conies over to table and takes bottle up. 
Starts. Others turn also.) 

Dr. Strong — What's the matter? 

Mr. Billings — JNIatter? Why— noth- 
ing. 

Dr. Strong — Name blown in the bot- 
tle all right? Paraffine seal all right? 
(All come to look.) 

Mr. Billings — Yes, yes, it's all right. 
(Moves off evidently perturbed.) 



Mrs. Carroll — What is it? Any- 
thing wrong with the milk? 

Mr. Billings — No, no, certainly not. 

Mrs. Carroll— Well, Miss Turner, I 
think we must collect our audience. 
(They go out. c.) 

Dr. Strong — Can I be of assistance? 
(Follozvs zvith a meaning glance at Mr. 
A. ivho is by the table.) 

(Mr. B. zvith sudden determination 
zvalks szviftly to the table to take milk 
bottle. Mr. A. sei:::es it.) 

Mr. Billings — Excuse me, Mr. Ar- 
nold — but there's a mistake here! This 
is not the milk I sent Mrs. Carroll — ^by 
some error it's a bottle of our second 
quality. I'd hate to have her find it out. 
I've got my car here and I'm just going 
to run off and change this — it won't take 
but a minute ! 

Mr. Arnold (holding the bottle) — I 
don't think you'd better, Mr. Billings. 
It would look badly. There's really no 
time. 

Mr. Billings (agitated) — I guess 
you're right. See here — this is a very 
important matter to me — more important 
than you know. . . . This bottle is 
not my best milk — but — but I'd be much 
obliged to you if it tested well 

Mr. Arnold (drily) — I hope it will. 

j\Ir. Billings — Look here, Arnold, 
confound it ! They'll all be back in a 
minute! Here! Quick! (Passes him a 
bill.) 

AIr. Arnold (takes it. Looks at it, 
both sides) — I'm not in the habit of tak- 
ing bribes, Mr. Billings. 

Mr. Billings — Sh ! I can see that — 
you are so stiff about it ! For goodness 
sake, man, see me through this foolish 
hen-party and I'll make it well worth 
your while ! Come, put that in your 
pocket for this one occasion, you under- 
stand ! 

Mr. Arnold — Well — just for this one 
occasion! (Puts bill in pocket.) 

(Ladies all re-enter r. I. c. and take 
scats. Meeting called to order. Mrs. C. in 
chair as before; I. /., bustle, talk.) 

Mrs. Carroll (rapping on table) — 
Will the meeting please come to order. 
I think, since it is already so late — and 
since we have such important — er — such 
an important — question to discuss, it will 
be as well to postpone the regular order 
of business until our next meeting. I'm 



150 



Something To Vote For 



sure you will be glad to have our discus- 
sion opened with a few words from Mr. 
Billings. Mr. Billings is the head of the 
milk business here, and knows more 
about it than any man in town. It is his 
milk which we are to have tested this 
afternoon — and he is proud to have it so 
— aren't you, Mr. Billings? (Smiles at 
him. ) 

Mr. Billings (rather constrainedly) 
— Yes ; yes. 

Mrs. Carroll — Now, do talk to us a 
little, Mr. BilHngs. Won't you please 
come forward. 

Mr. Billings (rising in his place) — 
Madam President, and ladies, also Mr. 
Inspector : I feel it to be an honor to be 
here to-day to meet so many of the lead- 
ing ladies of our community ; to see so 
many fair faces — hear so many sweet 
voices — take the hand of so many I am 
proud to number among my friends. I 
wish to congratulate this club on its new 
president (botv.^ to Mrs. Carroll.) — a 
lady whose presence carries a benefac- 
tion wherever she goes. (Applause.) 
In these days, when so many misguided 
and unwomanly women are meeting to- 
gether for all manner of unnecessary 
and sometimes utterly mistaken purposes, 
it is a genuine pleasure to find here so 
many true women of that innate refine- 
ment which always avoids notoriety. 
(Takes out large ivhitc handkerchief and 
zvipes face.) The subject upon which I 
have been asked to address you is one 
which appeals to the heart of every 
woman — milk for babes ! The favorite 
food of our children, the mainstay of 
the invalid, the foundation of all deli- 
cate cookery ! 

It has been my pleasure, ladies, and 
my pride to have helped in serving this 
community with pure and healthful milk 
for many years past. 

Our new organization, of which there 
is now so much discussion in the public 
press, is by no means the evil some 
would have you believe. I speak as one 
who knows. This is not the place for 
dry financial statistics, but I assure you 
that through this combination of milk 
dealers which has been recently effected 
you will have cheaper milk than has ever 
been given here before, and a far more 
regular and reliable service. For the 
quality we must trust to the opinion of 



these experts (zvaz'es his hand to Dr. 
Strong and Mr. Arnold) ; but for the 
wish to serve your best interests, and 
for a capacity in service developed 
through years of experience, you may 
always count upon yours truly. ( Bozvs 
and sits. Stir and murmurs of ap- 
proval. Applause.) 

Mrs. a. — Isn't he interesting. 

Mrs. B. — Just what I think. 

Mrs. Carroll — I'm sure we are all 
very grateful to Mr. Billings for giving 
us so much of his valuable time. It is so 
interesting, in this study of large general 
questions, to get information from the 
fountain head. And now we shall learn 
the medical side of it from a most com- 
petent authority. Ladies, I take pleas- 
ure in introducing my dear friend. Dr. 
Strong, who will speak to us on — what 
do you call it. Doctor? 

Dr. Strong (coming forzvard) — Let 
us call it The Danger of Impure Milk. 
(Stands a moment, looking earnestly at 
them.) We all love babies. We love 
our own babies best of all, naturally. 
We all want to feed our babies well, and 
some of us can't do it ourselves. Next 
to the Mother, the most important food 
supplier for our children is the Cow. 
Milk is the most valuable article of food 
for little children. 

I suppose you all know that bottle- 
fed babies die faster than breast-fed — 
by far; they die mostly in summer, and 
from enteric and diarrheal diseases. 
(Reads from notes.) 17,437 babies un- 
der a year old died in New York in 1907 ; 
1,315 died in Boston between June 1st 
and November 30th of that same year — 
in six months. In Fall River, at that 
time, more than 300 out of 1,000 died — 
nearly one-third. In New York, in five 
years, over 23,000 children of all ages 
died of measles, scarlet fever and diph- 
theria combined, and in the same time 
over 26,000 babies under two years died 
of diarrheal diseases. Out of 1,91:3 
cases of these infantile diseases, in New 
York, only three per cent were breast- 
fed. 

Now, ladies, this class of diseases 
comes from bacteria, and the bacteria 
come, in the vast majority of cases, 
from the milk. You see, the bottle-fed 
baby does not get its supply directly 
from the source, as when fed by its 



The Forerunner 



151 



mother; between the Cow and the Baby 
stands the Milkman. The Milkman is 
not a mother. I really believe that if 
mothers ran the milk business they 
would not be willing to poison other 
women's babies even to make money for 
their own ! 

The producer and distributer of milk 
has small thought for the consumers' 
interests. To protect the consumer, the 
law now provides the ]\Iilk Inspector. 
But the Milk Inspector has on one side 
a few alert business men, often ready to 
pay well to protect their interests, and 
on the other the great mass of apathetic 
citizens, who do not take the trouble to 
protect their own. 

The discussion to-day is in the hope 
of rousing this club to see the vital im- 
portance of pure milk for our children, 
and to urge its members to use their in- 
fluence to secure it. 

By the kind permission of your presi- 
dent I have brought with me a resident 
of a less fortunate part of the town, 
that she may give you a personal experi- 
ence. ]\Irs. O'Shane, will you please 
come to the platform? (The little wo- 
man in black rises, hestitates, sits down 
again. ) 

Mrs. Carroll — Won't you please 
make room, ladies? (She comes down 
and escorts Mrs. O'Shane to platform. 
Airs. O'Shane much agitated.) 

Dr. Strong — Brace up, Mrs. O'Shane. 
It's for little Patsy's sake, you know. 
He's gone, but there are many more. 

Mrs. O'Shane — Indade there are, 
thank Hiven ! It's not too late for the 
others! The street's full ov thim ! If 
ye please, ladies, did any of you ever 
lose a child? 

Mrs. Carroll (coming to her and 
taking her hand)^I have, Mrs. O'Shane. 
(Sits again.) 

Mrs. O'Shane — There's many, I don't 
doubt. But ye have the consolation of 
knowin' that your children had all done 
that could be done for thim. An' ours 
dies on us every summer — such a many 
of thim dies — an' we can't help it. They 
used to tell us 'twas the Hand 'o God, 
and then they said 'twas the hot weather, 
and now they're preachin' it to us 
everywhere that 'tis the milk does it! 
The hot weather is bad, because thim 
things that's in the milk shwarms thicker 



and faster — thim little bugs that kills 
our babies. ... If ye could have 
seen my little Patsy ! He was the han'- 
somest child, an' the strongest! Walkin' 
he was — and him hardly a year old ! 
An' he was all I had — an' me a widder ! 
An', of course, I took the best milk I 
could get ; but all the milk in our parts 
comes from the Trust — an' sisteen cents 
a quart for thim fancy brands I could 
not pay. An', just think of it — even if 
I could, there's not enough of that sort 
to go around! There's so many of us! 
We have no choice, and we have no 
money to pay for the extras, an' we 
must give our babies the milk that is 
sold to us — an' they die ! . . . 

I know I should care most for the 
hundreds an' thousands of thim — an' for 
Mrs. Casey's twins that died in a week 
last summer, an' three of Mrs. Flah- 
arty's, an' even thim little blackies on 
Bay street ; but I care the most for my 
Little Patsy — havin' but the wan ! 
Ladies, if you could have seen him! The 
hair on his head was that soft ! — an' all 
in little rings o' curls ! An' his cheeks 
like roses — before he took sick; an' his 
little feet was that pretty — an' he'd kick 
out so strong and bold with them! An' 
he could stand up, and he was beginning 
to hold on the chairs like — an' he'd catch 
me by the skirts an' look up at me with 
such a smile — an' pull on me he would, 
an' say Mah ! J\Iah ! An' what had I 
to give him but the milk? And the milk 
killed him. ... I beg your pardon, 
ladies, but it breaks my heart! (She 
cries. Mrs. Carroll comforts her, cry- 
ing too. Many handkerchiefs out. Mrs. 
Carroll rises up, repressing emotion.) 

]\Irs. Carroll — Ladies, we will now 
hear from our new Inspector, Mr. Ar- 
nold. (Mr. Arnold conies forward and 
boii's.) 

Mr. Arnold — I fear cold facts will 
make but little impression after this 
moving appeal. Mrs. O'Shane has given 
you the main points in the case. ]\Iost 
people are poor. Most milk is poor. And 
the poorest milk goes to the poorest peo- 
ple. The community must protect itself. 
The Inspector has no power except to 
point out defects in the supply. Action 
must be taken to enforce the law, and 
unless the public does its duty there is 
often no action taken. (Reads from 



152 



Something To Vote For 



paper.) Dr. Strong has given you some 
figures as to the mortahty among babies. 
There is also a heavy death rate for 
adults from contaminated milk, as in the 
case of the typhoid fever outbreak in 
Stamford, Conn., in 1895, when 160 
cases were reported in nine days, 147 of 
which had all used milk from one dairy- 
man. In about six weeks 386 cases 
were reported ; of these 352 took milk 
from that one dealer, and four more got 
it from him indirectly. His dairy was 
closed, and in two weeks the outbreak 
had practically subsided. 

Typhoid fever, scarlet fever and dip- 
theria, as well as many less common dis- 
eases, are spread by infected milk. 

The inspection service watches both 
the producer and distributor; examining 
the dairy farm as to the health of the 
cattle, the nature of their surroundings, 
the care given them, the methods of 
milking, bottling, and so on; and look- 
ing to the milkmen in each step of handl- 
ing, carriage and delivery. 

In judging milk there are three main 
questions to be considered : Its compara- 
tive quality as good milk ( the percent- 
age of butter-fats, etc.) ; its cleanliness 
(dirty milk is always likely to carry dis- 
ease) ; and its freedom from adultera- 
tion — from the primative pump-water 
and starch down to the subtler and more 
dangerous commercial methods of to- 
day. 

I have been asked to show you a sim- 
ple test or two — such as might be used 
at home. These do not require chemical 
or bacteriological analysis, a microscope 
or a lactometer ; merely a fine cloth 
{produces it) and a little iodine {pro- 
duces that). 

{The ladies lean forzuard eagerly. Mr. 
Billings looks indifferent.) 

Mr. Arnold — Please understand, 
ladies, that neither of these tests proves 
anything absolutely harmful. I feel ex- 
tremely awkward in testing a bottle of 
the Billings Company milk in the pres- 
ence of Mr. Billings. Please remember 
that the Billings Company has many 
supply dairies. If this one bottle should 
not prove first-class it is no direct re- 
proach to your guest. 

Mr. Billings — Ladies, I do not ask 
any excuses. The Billings Company is 
reliable. 



Mrs. Carroll — We have every con- 
fidence in this milk, Mr. Billings ; that 
is why I asked for the test. 

Mr. Arnold — May I ask for another 
vessel — a pitcher or milk bottle? 

{Mrs. Carroll rings. Enter Louise, 
r.) 

Mrs. Carroll — Bring another pitcher, 
Louise, and an empty milk bottle — 
clean. ( Exit Louise, r., and returns 
with them, r., ivhile Mr. Arnold con- 
tinues.) 

AIr. Arnold — Only two things are to 
be decided by this little test — whether 
the milk is clean, and whether it has 
starch in it. If it is clean milk, accord- 
ing to our standard, there will be but a 
slight smear on the cloth when it is 
strained. {He puts cloth over top of 
pitcher, pushing it dozvn inside, and 
fastens it zvith string or rubber band; 
then solemnly pours in most of the milk. 
Buzz among ladies.) 

Mr. Arnold — While this is straining, 
I will apply the iodine test to what re- 
mains in the bottle. If there is starch 
in it, it will turn blue. {Pours zvater 
from a glass into the bottle, adds a fezv 
drops of iodine, shakes it, holds it tip be- 
fore them. It is blue.) 

Mrs. W., Mrs. B., Mrs. G. {together) 
—Oh ! Look at that ! Just think of it ! 

{Mr. Billings much confused, but un- 
able to escape.) 

Mr. Arnold — I'm afraid one of the 
supplying dairymen thins his milk and 
whitens it. Starch is not dangerous. 
Dirt is. We will now examine our 
strainer. {Holds up cloth. A heavy, 
dark deposit is shozvn. There is a tense 
silence.) 

Mrs. O'Shane {suddenly rising up) 
That's what killed my Patsy! {Points 
at Mr. Billings.) An' 'twas him that did 
it! {Commotion.) 

Mr. Billings (rising) — Ladies, I de- 
mand to be heard ! You have all known 
me for years. Most of you take my 
milk. You know it is good. There is 
some mistake; that is not the milk that 
should have been delivered here. 

Mrs. Carroll — Evidently not. 

Mrs. O'Shane — No! 'Tis not the 
milk for the rich — 'tis the milk for the 
poor ! 

Mr. Billings — Ladies, I protest ! My 
standing in this community — my years 



The Forerunner 



153 



of service — ought to give me your con- 
fidence long enough to look into this 
matter. I must find out from which of 
my suppliers this inferior milk has come. 
We will have a thorough overhauling, I 
assure you. I had no idea any such milk 
was being handled by us. 

Mr. Arnold — Then why did you give 
me this bill? {Shozvs marked bill.) This 
was handed to me a few moments ago 
by Mr. Billings to ensure my giving him 
a favorable test. It is the first time I 
ever held a bribe — even for evidence. 

Dr. Strong (coming forzvard) — 
Ladies, I wish to clear Mr. Arnold of 
even a moment's suspicion. I knew the 
Milk Trust would not bear inspection, so 
I urged Mr. Arnold to take the money, 
if it was oft'ered, and bring it out in evi- 
dence. There it is. 

AIr. Billings — I suspected as much ! 
This is admitted to be a conspiracy be- 
tween our new doctor and our new in- 
spector. But I trust, ladies, that more 
than the word of two strangers will be 
required to condemn an old friend and 
fellow-citizen. 

Dr. Strong — I gave you that bill, Mr. 
Billings ; it's the one you changed for 
me just now. That much of a conspir- 
acy I admit. 

Mr. Billings — So you and your ac- 
complice had it all framed up to knife 
me ! And is your word and his — a man 
whose very admission proves him a venal 
scoundrel — to stand against mine? Do 
you think I had but one hundred-dollar 
bill about me? 

Dr. Stiiong — I doubt if you had more 
than one with a red mark in the middle 



of the top — on both sides! {Mrs. Car- 
roll suddenly takes up bill and examines 
it. Rises.) 

Mrs. Carroll — It was a painful sur- 
prise to find the quality of milk which 
has been served to me, but it is more 
painful to see that it was evidently 
known to be bad. Ladies, I saw Dr. 
Strong mark that bill. I saw her give it 
to him in change for smaller ones. 

Mrs. O'Shane — Sure, an' I saw him 
pass it to the man ! 

Mrs. Carroll — Ladies, if you will 
kindly move a little I think Air. Billings 
would be glad to pass out. (They make 
"ccay for him and he goes out, turns at 
door and shakes fist at Mr. Arnold.) 

Mr. Billings — You'll lose your job, 
yotmg man ! I have some power in this 
town ! 

Mrs. Carroll — And so have I, Mr. 
Billings. I'll see that Mr. Arnold keeps 
his place. We need him. You said this 
club could carry the town ; that we wo- 
men could do whatever we wanted to 
here — with our "influence" ! Now we 
see what our "influence" amounts to ! 
Rich or poor, we are all helpless together 
unless we wake up to the danger and 
protect ourselves. That's what the bal- 
lot is for, ladies — to protect our homes ! 
To protect our children ! To protect the 
children of the poor ! I'm willing to vote 
now! I'm glad to vote now! I've got 
something to vote for! Friends, sisters, 
all who are in favor of woman suffrage 
and pure milk say Aye ! 

(Clubzvomen all rise and wave their 
Jiandker chiefs, zvith cries of "Aye!" 
"Aye!") curtain. 



A DIET UNDESIRED 

He was set to keep a flock of sheep. 

And they seemed to him too slow ; 

So he took great pains to improve their brains 

With food to make them grow. 

But they would not eat the high-spiced meat 
For all that he could say; 

His scorn was wasted and the food untasted- 
P'or the sheep weren't made that way ! 

He would make them take his good beefsteak ! 
So he raged day after day ; 
But his anger deep was lost on the sheej 
I'or they were not made that way ! 



154 



HAPPINESS AND RELIGION 



THE consolations of religion" have 
been offered to us with age long 
reiteration. Persons who were 
healthy and happy, and so felt 
no need of consolation, were apt to be 
similarly indifferent to religion ; and those 
who labored to convert them were 
obliged to fall back on gloomy prog- 
nostications, saying, "One of these days 
trouble will come to you ; then you will 
feel the need of religion." 

This was an unfortunate association 
of ideas, for no person likes to antici- 
pate misery. There is an attitude 
among some Socialists closely akin to 
the above, they holding that poverty 
must increase until, by some social 
alchemy, extreme unhappiness drives 
men into Socialism. 

Increase of poverty is considered to 
lead to Socialism as increase of misery 
to religion, and in both cases the effect 
on an average mind is one of preferred 
postponement. If one can avoid the 
misery, why bother with religion? If 
one can avoid the poverty, why bother 
with Socialism ? Perhaps the average 
mind is not wise in its feelings, but it 
is here to be dealt with none the less. 

It is true that a satisfying religion 
is "a very present help in time of trou- 
ble." If we know that the general 
management of things is good, we can 
stand a temporary personal mishap 
with equanimity. 

But this is by no means the main 
use of one's basic faith. If it were, 
if the chief power of religion was as a 
solace, a comforter, a hope and promise 
for the future to those whose present 
is miserable, then it would lose its hold 
as the happiness of the world increased- 
If the advance of Socialism were best 
promoted by the advance of poverty, 
then it would be hindered by the gen- 
eral gain in wealth. 

The appeal of Socialism is to each 
of us, rich and poor, offering greater 
happiness to all ; and the appeal of re- 
ligion should be the same. Let us 
have, not only the consolations of re- 
ligion, but its congratulations ! What 
has religion to say of happiness? 

A successful God surely requires the 
rich fulfillment of the known laws of 
life, and that fulfillment means happi- 
ness. We have in our range of con- 



sciousness the whole scale of joy now 
known, and unmeasured possibilities 
beyond that. 

Mere physical existance, rightly car- 
ried out, means happiness. As healthy 
animals we should experience, from 
glad uprising to peaceful lying down, 
the steady well being of quiet nerves, 
normal digestion, and the orderly per- 
formance of functions, each bringing 
its own satisfaction. Just being heal- 
thy makes life one long contentment, 
and is itself a primal duty. What has 
religion to say to a healthy person? 
And what has a healthy person to say 
to religion? It should be to us not a 
sort of accident insurance, but an as- 
surance of well being. 

vSeeing life to be a good and pleasant 
thing, the world a garden in the mak- 
ing (not a garden lost!) and mankind 
engaged in a majestic upward prog- 
ress; finding ourselves personally com- 
fortable and clearly on the road to 
great joy, what place has religion in 
such a scheme of things? 

It has the most vital and important 
position ; it is the great equalizer, di- 
rector, promoter of all this blessedness. 
It is not a mere system of therapeutics 
for sick souls, but a science of practical 
ps3^chology for well ones. 

Religion should give to the mind a 
clear, satisfying explanation of life, 
not based on a hotly defended revela- 
tion, but on common knowledge ; a 
glad sense of assured respect for the 
Central Power, of absolute confidence 
in and enjoyment of it as a Working 
Force, w^ell proven ; and lines of con- 
duct laid out so clearly that any nor- 
mal child could see why this is right 
and that is wrong. 

No vague mystery in this religion of 
our children, but well-established 
facts : requiring no stultification of the 
intellect, but full use of our best in- 
telligence ; no abnegation and surren- 
der of the will, but the fullest exercise 
of that vital power. 

Such a religion recognizes happiness 
as the norm of life, the health of the 
soul ; and shows the way to it. Then 
we shall not say, "Ah, wait till you are 
in trouble ; then you will need relig- 
ion!" but, "Ah, let us make you happy; 
then you will appreciate religion!" 



The Forerunner 



155 



THE CRUX 



chapter vi. 
New Friends and Old. 

There is hope till life is through, my dear! 

And wonders never cease; 
'Twould be too bad to be true, my dear, 

If all one's swans were geese! 

VIVIAN'S Startled cry of wel- 
come was heard by Susie, 
perched on the stairs with 
several eager youths gathered 
as close as might be about her, and 
several pairs of hands helped her swift 
descent to greet her brother. 

]\Iiss Orella, dropping Air. Dyke- 
man's arm, came flying from the ball- 
room. 

"Oh Morton ! Morton ! When did you 
come? Why didn't you let us know? 
Oh, my dear boy !" 

She haled him into their special par- 
lor — took his hat away from him — 
pulled out the most comfortable chair — 

"Have you had supper? And to think 
that we haven't a room for you ! But 
there's to be one vacant — next week. 
I'll see that there is. You shall have 
my room, dear boy. Oh I am so glad 
to see you !" 

Susie gave him a sisterly hug, while 
he kissed her, somewhat gingerly, on 
the cheek ; and then perched herself on 
the arm of a chair and gazed upon him 
with affectionate interest. Vivian, her 
arm around Susie, gazed also, busily 
engaged in fitting present facts to past 
memories. 

Surely he had not looked just like 
that! The Morton of her girlhood's 
dream had a clear complexion, a bright 
eye, a brave and gallant look — only the 
voice was not different. 

But here was Morton in present fact, 
something taller, it seemed, and a good 
deal heavier, well dressed in a rather 
vivid way, and making merry over his 
aunt's devotion. 

"Well, if it doesn't seem like old 
times to have Aunt 'Rella running 
'round like a hen with her head cut off, 
to wait on me." The simile was not 
unjust, though certainly ungracious, 
but his aunt was far too happy to re- 
sent it. 

"You sit right still !" she said. "I'll 



go and bring you some supper. You 
must be hungry." 

"Now do sit down and hear to rea- 
son, Auntie !" he said, reaching out a 
detaining hand and pulling her into a 
seat beside him. "I'm not hungry a 
little bit ; had a good feed on the diner. 
Never mind about the room — I don't 
know how long I can stay — and I left 
my grip at the Allen House anyway. 
How well you're looking, Auntie ! I 
declare I'd hardly have known you ! 
And here's little Susie — a regular belle ! 
And Vivian — don't suppose I dare call 
you Vivian now. Miss Lane?" 

Vivian gave a little embarrassed 
laugh. If he had used her first name 
she would never have noticed it. Now 
that he asked her, she hardly knew 
what answer to make, but presently 
said : 

"Why, of course, I always call you 
Morton." 

"Well, I'll come when you call me," 
he cheerfully replied, leaning forward, 
elbows on knees, and looking around 
the pretty room. 

"How well you're fixed here. Guess 
it was a wise move, Aunt 'Rella. But 
I'd never have dreamed you'd do it. 
Your Dr. Bellair must have been a 
powerful promoter to get you all out 
here. I wouldn't have thought any- 
body in Bainville could move — but me. 
Why, there's Grandma, as I live !" and 
he made a low bow. 

Mrs. Pettigrew, hearing of his ar- 
rival from the various would-be part- 
ners of the two girls, had come to the 
door and stood there regarding him 
with a non-committal expression. At 
this address she frowned perceptibly. 

"My name is Mrs. Pettigrew, young 
man. I've known you since you were 
a scallawag in short pants, but I'm no 
Grandma of yours." 

"A thousand pardons! Please ex- 
cuse me, Mrs. Pettigrew," he said with 
exaggerated politeness. "\\^on't you 
be seated?" And he set a chair for her 
with a flourish. 

"Thanks, no," she said. "I'll go 
back" — and went back forthwith, at- 
tended by Mr. Skee. 



156 



The Crux 



"One of these happy family re- 
unions, ma'am?" he asked with approv- 
ing interest. "If there's one thing I 
do admire, it's a happy surprise." 

" 'Tis some of a surprise," Mrs. Pet- 
tigrew admitted, and became rather 
glum, in spite of Mr. Skee's undeniably 
entertaining conversation. 

"Some sort of a fandango going on?" 
Morton asked after a few rather stiff 
moments. "Don't let me interrupt? 
On with the dance ! Let joy be uncon- 
fined ! And if she must" — he looked 
at Vivian, and went on somewhat 
lamely — "dance, why not dance with 
me? May I have the pleasure. Miss 
Lane?" 

"Oh, no," cried Miss Orella, "We'd 
much rather be with you !" 

"But I'd rather dance than talk, any 
time," said he, and crooked his elbow 
to' Vivian with an impressive bow. 

Somewhat uncertain in her own 
mind, and unwilling to again disap- 
point Fordham Greer, who had already 
lost one dance and was visibly waiting 
for her in the hall, the girl hesitated; 
but Susie said, "Go on, give htm part 
of one. I'll tell Mr, Greer." So Vivian 
took Morton's proffered arm and re- 
turned to the floor. 

She had never danced with him in 
the old days ; no special memory was 
here to contrast with the present; yet 
something seemed vaguely wrong. He 
danced well, but more actively than 
she admired ; and during the rest of the 
evening devoted himself to the various 
ladies with an air of long usage. 

She was glad when the dancing was 
over and he had finally departed for 
his hotel ; glad when Susie had at last 
ceased chattering and dropped reluc- 
tantly to sleep. 

For a long time she lay awake try- 
ing to straighten out things in her 
mind and account to herself for the 
sense of vague confusion which op- 
pressed her. 

Morton had come back ! That was 
the prominent thing, of which she re- 
peatedly assured herself. How often 
she had looked forward to that mo- 
ment, and felt in anticipation a vivid 
joy. She had thought of it in a hun- 
dred ways, always with pleasure, but 



never in this particular way — among 
so many strangers. 

It must be that which confused her, 
she thought, for she was extremely 
sensitive to the attitude of those about 
her. She felt an unspoken criticism of 
Morton on the part of her new friends 
in the house, and resented it, yet in 
her own mind a faint comparison 
would obtrude itself between his man- 
ners and those of Jimmie Saunders or 
Mr. Greer, for instance. The young 
Scotchman she had seen regarding 
Morton with an undisguised dislike; 
and this she inwardly resented, even 
while herself disliking his bearing to 
his aunt — and to her grandmother. 

It was all contradictory and unsatis- 
fying, and she fell asleep saying over 
to herself, "He has come back! He 
has come back!" and trying to feel 
happy. 

Aunt Orella was happy at any rate. 
She would not rest until her beloved 
nephew was installed in the house, 
practically turning out Mr. Gibbs in 
order to accommodate him. Morton 
protested, talked of business and of 
having to go away at any time ; and 
Mr. Gibbs, who still "mealed" with 
them, secretly wished he would. 

But Morton did not go away. It 
was a long time since he had been 
petted and waited on, and he enjoyed 
it hugely, treating his aunt with a serio- 
comic affection that was sometimes 
funny, sometimes disagreeable. 

At least Susie found it so. Her first 
surprise over, she fell back on a fund 
of sound common sense, strengthened 
by present experience, and found a 
good deal to criticise in her returned 
brother. She was so young when he 
left, and he had teased her so unmer- 
cifully in those days, that her early 
memories of him were rather mixed in 
sentiment, and now he appeared, not 
as the unquestioned idol of a manless 
family in a well-nigh manless town, 
but as one among many; and of those 
many several were easily his superiors. 

He was her brother, and she loved 
him, of course ; but there were so many 
wanting to be "brothers" if not more, 
and they were so much more polite! 
Morton petted, patronized and teased 



The Forerunner 



157 



her, and she took it all in good part, 
as after the manner of brothers, but 
his demeanor with other people was 
not to her mind. 

His adoring aunt, finding no fault 
whatever with this well-loved nephew, 
lavished upon him the affection of her 
unused motherhood, and he seemed to 
find it a patent joke, open to every- 
one, that she should be so fond. 

To this Mrs. Pettigrew took great 
exception, and, indeed, to his general 
walk and conversation. 

"Fine boy — Rella's nephew!" she 
said to Dr. Bellair late one night when, 
seeing a light over her neighbor's tran- 
som, she dropped in for a little chat. 
Conversation seemed easier for her 
here than in the atmosphere of Bain- 
ville. 

"Fine boy — eh? Nice complexion!" 

Dr. Bellair was reading a heavy- 
weight book, by a heavier weight spec- 
ialist. She laid it down, took off her 
eyeglasses, and rubbed them. 

"Better not kiss him," she said. 

"I thought as much I" said Grandma. 
I thought as much! Huh!" 

"Nice world, isn't it?" the doctor 
suggested genially. 

"Nothing the matter with the world, 
that I know of," her visitor answered. 

"Nice people, then — how's that?" 

"Nothing the matter with the peo- 
ple but foolishness — plain foolishness. 
Good land ! Shall we never learn any- 
thing !" 

"Not till it's too late apparently," 
the doctor gloomily agreed, turning 
slowly in her swivel chair. "That boy 
never was taught anything to protect 
him. What did Rella know? Or for 
that matter, what do any boys' fathers 
and mothers know? Nothing, you'd 
think. If they do, they won't teach it 
to their children." 

"Time they did !" said the old lady 
decidedly. "High time they did ! It's 
never too late to learn. I've learned 
a lot out of you and your books, Jane 
Bellair. Intersting reading! I don't 
suppose you could give an absolute 
opinion now, could you?' 

"No," said Dr. Bellair gravely, "no, 
I couldn't; not yet, anyway." 

"Well, we've got to keep our eyes 



open," Mrs. Pettigrew concluded. 
"When I think of that girl of mine — " 

"Yes — or any girl," the doctor added. 

"You look out for any girl — that's 
your business; I'll look out for mine — 
if I can." 

Mrs. Pettigrew's were not the only 
eyes to scrutinize Morton Elder. 
Through the peep hole in the swing 
door to the kitchen, Jeanne Jeaune 
watched him darkly with one hand on 
her lean chest. 

She kept her watch on whatever 
went on in that dining room, and on 
the two elderly waitresses whom she 
had helped Miss Elder to secure when 
the house filled up. They were rather 
painfully imattractive, but seemed like- 
ly to stay where no young and pretty 
damsel could be counted on for a year. 
Morton joked with perseverance about 
their looks, and those who were most 
devoted to Susie seemed to admire his 
wit, while Vivian's special admirers 
found it pointless in the extreme. 

"Your waitresses are the limit, 
Auntie," he said, "but the cook is all to 
the good. Is she a plain cook or a hand- 
some one?" 

"Handsome is as handsome does, 
young man," Mrs. Pettigrew pointedly 
replied. "Mrs. Jones is a first class 
cook and her looks are neither here nor 
there." 

"You fill me with curiosity," he re- 
plied. "I must go out and make her 
acquaintance. I always get solid with 
the cook ; it's worth while." 

The face at the peep hole darkened 
and turned away with a biter and de- 
termined look, and Master Theophile 
was hastened at his work till his dim 
intelligence wondered, and then blessed 
with an unexpected cookie. 

Vivian, Morton watched and fol- 
lowed assiduously. She was much 
changed from what he remembered — 
the young, frightened, slender girl he 
had kissed under the lilac bushes, a kiss 
long since forgotten among many. 

Perhaps the very number of his sub- 
sequent acquaintances during a varied 
and not markedly successful career in 
the newer states made this type of New 
England womanhood more marked. 
Girls he had kno\vn of various sorts ; 



158 



The Crux 



women old and young had been kind 
to him, for Morton had the rough good 
looks and fluent manner which easily 
find their way to the good will of many 
female hearts; but this gentle refine- 
ment of manner and delicate beauty 
had a novel charm for him. 

Sitting by his aunt at the table he 
studied Vivian opposite ; he watched 
her in their few quiet evenings to- 
gether, under the soft lamplight on 
Miss Elder's beloved "center table ;" 
and studied her continually in the stim- 
ulating presence of many equally de- 
voted men. 

All that was best in him was stirred 
by her quiet grace, her reserved friend- 
liness ; and the spur of rivalry was by 
no means wanting. Both the girls had 
their full share of masculine attention 
in that busy houseful, each having her 
own more particular devotees, and the 
position of comforter to the others. 

Morton became openly devoted to 
Vivian, and followed her about, seeking 
every occasion to be alone with her — 
a thing difficult to accomplish. 

"I don't ever get a chance to see 
anything of you," he said. "Come on, 
take a walk with me — won't you?" 

"You can see me all day — practi- 
cally," she answered. "It seems to me 
that I never saw a man with so little 
to do." 

"Now that's too bad, Vivian ! Just 
because a fellow's out of a job for a 
while ! It isn't the first time, either ; 
in my business you work like — like 
anything, part of the time, and then get 
laid off. I work hard enough when I'm 
at it." 

"Do you like it — that kind of work?" 
the girl asked. 

They were sitting in the family par- 
lor, but the big hall was as usual well 
occupied, and some one or more of the 
boarders always eager to come in. Miss 
Elder at this moment had departed for 
special conference vAth her cook, and 
Susie was at the theatre with Jimmie 
Saunders. Fordham Greer had asked 
Vivian, as had Morton also, but she 
declined both on the ground that she 
didn't like that kind of play. Mrs. 
Pettigrew, being joked too persistently 
about her fondness for "long whist," 
had retired to her room — but then, her 



room was divided from the parlor only 
by a thin partition and a door v/ith a 
most inefficacious latch. 

"Come over here by the fire," said 
Morton, "and I'll tell you all about it." 

He seated himself on a sofa, comfort- 
ably adjacent to the fireplace, but Viv- 
ian preferred a low rocker. 

"I suppose you mean travelling — 
and selling goods?" he pursued. "Yes, 
I like it. There's lots of change — and 
you meet people. I'd hate to be shut 
up in an office." 

"But do you — get anywhere with it? 
Is there any outlook for you? Any- 
thing worth doing?" 

"There's a good bit of money to be 
made, if you mean that ; that is, if a 
fellow's a good salesman. I'm no 
slouch myself, when I feel in the mood. 
But it's easy come, easy go, you see. 
And it's uncertain. There are times 
like this, with nothing doing." 

"I didn't mean money, altogether," 
said the girl meditatively, "but the 
work itself ; I don't see any future for 
you." 

Morton was pleased with her inter- 
est. Reaching between his knees he 
seized the edge of the small sofa and 
dragged it a little towards her, quite 
unconscious that the act was distaste- 
ful to her. 

Though twenty-five years old, Viv- 
ian was extremely young in many 
ways, and her introspection had spent 
itself in tending the inner shrine of his 
early image. That ikon was now jar- 
ringly displaced by his insistent pres- 
ence, and she could not satisfy herself 
yet as to whether the change pleased 
or displeased her. Again and again his 
manner antagonized her, but his visible 
devotion carried an undeniable appeal, 
and his voice stirred the deep well of 
emotion in her heart. 

"Look here, Vivian," he said, "you've 
no idea how it goes through me to have 
you speak like that ! You see I've been 
knocking around here for all this time, 
and I have'nt had a soul to take an 
interest. A fellow needs the society of 
good women — like you." 

It is an old appeal, and always reach- 
es the mark. To any woman it is a 
compliment, and to a young girl,, 
doubly alluring. As she looked at him,. 



The Forerunner 



159 



the very things she most disliked, his 
too free anner, his coarsened com- 
plexion, a certain look about the eyes, 
suddenly assumed a new interest as 
proofs of his loneliness and lack of 
right companionship. What Mrs. St. 
Cloud had told her of the enobling in- 
fluence of a true woman flashed upon 
her mind. 

"You see, I had no mother," he said 
simply — "and Aunt Rella spoiled 
me — " He looked now like the boy 
she used to know. 

"Of course I ought to have behaved 
better," he admitted. "I was ungrate- 
ful — I can see it now. But it did seem 
to me I couldn't stand that town a day 
longer !" 

She could sympathize with this feel- 
ing, and showed it. 

"Then when a fellow knocks around 
as I have so long, he gets to where he 
doesn't care a hang for anything. See- 
ing you again makes a lot of difference, 
Vivian. I think, perhaps — I could take 
a new start." 

"Oh do ! Do !" she said eagerly. 
You're young enough, Morton. You 
can do anything if you'll make up your 
mind to it." 

"And you'll help me?" 

"Of course I'll help you — if I can," 
said she. 

A feeling of sincere remorse for 
wasted opportunities rose in the young 
man's mind ; also, in the presence of 
this pure-eyed girl, a sense of shame for 
his previous habits. He walked to the 
window, his hands in his pockets, and 
looked out blankly for a moment. 

"A fellow does a lot of things he 
shouldn't," he began, clearing his 
throat; but she met him more than half 
way with the overflowing generosity of 
youth and ignorance : 

"Never mind what you've done, Mor- 
ton — you're going to do differently 
now ! Susie'll be so proud of you — and 
Aunt Orella!" 

"And you?" He turned upon her 
suddenly. 

"Oh — I? Of course! I shall be very 
proud of my old friend." 

She met his eyes bravely, with a 
lovely look of hope and courage, and 
again his heart smote him. 

"I hope you will," he said and 



straightened his broad shoulders man- 
fully. 

"Morton Elder!" cried his aunt, bust- 
ling in with deep concern in her voice, 
"What's this I hear about you're hav- 
ing a sore throat?" 

"Nothing, I hope," said he cheer- 
fully. 

"Now. Morton" — Vivian showed 
new solicitude — "you know you have 
got a sore throat ; Susie told me." 

"Well, I wish she'd held her ton- 
gue," he protested. "It's nothing at 
all — be all right in a jiffy. No, I won't 
take any of your fixings. Auntie." 

"I want Dr. Bellair to look at it, 
anyhow." said his aunt, anxiously. 
"She'll know if it's diptheretic or any- 
thing. She's coming in." 

"She can just go out again." he said 
with real annoyance. "If there's any- 
thing I've no use for it's a woman 
doctor !" 

"Oh hush, hush!" cried Vivian — too 
late. 

"Don't apoligize," said Dr. Belliar 
from her doorway. "Who's got a sore 
least offended. Indeed, I had rather 
surmised that that was your attitude , I 
didn't come in to prescribe, but to find 
Mrs. Pettigrew." 

"Want me?" inquired the old lady 
from her doorway. "Who'se got a sore 
throat?" 

"Morton has," Vivian explained, 
"and he won't let Aunt Rella — why 
where is she?" 

Miss Elder had gone out as suddenly 
as she had entered. 

"Camphor's good for sore throat," 
Mrs. Pettigrew volunteered. "Three or 
four drops on a piece of sugar. Is it 
the swelled kind, or the kind that 
smarts?" 

"Oh — Halifax !" exclaimed Morton, 
disgustedly. "It isn't any kind. I 
haven't a sore throat." 

"Camphor's good for cold sores ; you 
have one of them anyhow," the old lady 
persisted, producing a little bottle and 
urging it upon Morton. "Just keep it 
wet with camphor as often as you think 
of it, and it'll go away." 

Vivian looked on, interested and 
sympathetic, but ISIorton put his hand 
to his lip and backed away. 

"If you ladies don't stop trying to 



160 



The Crux 



doctor me, I'll clear out tomorrow, so 
there !" 

This appalling threat was fortunately- 
unheard by his aunt, who popped in 
again at this moment, dragging Dr. 
Hale with her. Dr. Bellair smiled 
quietly to herself. 

''I wouldn't tell him what I wanted 
him for, or he wouldn't have come, 
I'm sure — doctors are so funny," said 
Miss Elder, breathlessly, "but here he 
is. Now, Dr. Hale, here's a foolish 
boy who won't listen to reason, and I'm 
real worried about him. I want you to 
look at his throat." 

Dr. Hale glanced briefly at Morton's 
angry face. 

"The patient seems to be of age. Miss 
Elder; and, if you'll excuse me, does 
not seem to have authorized this call." 

"My affectionate family are bound to 
have me an invalid," Morton explained. 
"I'm in imminent danger of hot baths, 
cold presses, mustard plasters, aconite, 
belladonna and quinine — and if I can 
once reach my hat — " 

He sidled to the door and fled in 
mock terror. 

"Thank you for your good inten- 
tions. Miss Elder," Dr. Hale remarked 
dryly. "You can bring water to the 
horse, but you can't make him drink 
it, you see." 

"Now that that young man has gone, 
we might have a game of whist," Mrs. 
Pettigrew suggested, looking not ill- 
pleased. 

"For which you do not need me in 
the least," and Dr. Hale was about to 
leave, but Dr. Bellair stopped him. 

"Don't be an everlasting Winter 
woodchuck, Dick! Sit down and play ; 
do be good. I've got to see old Mrs. 
Graham yet ; she refuses to go to sleep 
without it — knowing I'm so near. By 

Mrs. Pettigrew insisted on playing 



with Miss Elder, so Vivian had the 
questionable pleasure of Dr. Hale as a 
partner. He was an expert, used to 
frequent and scientific play, and by no 
means patient with the girl's mistakes. 

He made no protest at a lost trick, 
but explained briefly between hands, 
what she should have remembered and 
how the cards lay, till she grew quite 
discouraged. 

Her game was but mediocre, played 
only to oblige ; and she never could see 
why people cared so much about a 
mere pastime. Pride came to her res- 
cue at last ; the more he criticised, the 
more determined she grew to profit by 
all this advice ; but her mind would 
wander now and then to Morton, to his 
young life so largely wasted, it ap- 
peared, and to what hope might lie be- 
fore him. Could she be the help and 
stimulus he seemed to think? How 
much did he mean by asking her to 
help him? 

"Why waste a thirteenth trump on 
your partner's thirteenth card?" Dr. 
Hale was asking. 

She flushed a deep rose color and 
lifted appealing eyes to him. 

"Do forgive me; my mind was else- 
where." 

"Will you not invite it to return?" 
he suggested drily. 

He excused himself after a few 
games, and the girl at least was glad to 
have him go. She wanted to be alone 
with her thoughts. 

Mrs. Pettigrew, sitting unaccount- 
ably late at her front window, watched 
the light burn steadily in the small 
office at the opposite corner. Presently 
she saw a familiar figure slip in there, 
and, after a considerable stay, come 
out quietly, cross the street, and let 
himself in at their door. 

"Huh!" said Mrs. Pettigrew. 
{To be continued^ 



STONES 

Let those cold stones that mark old bones 

Be ground to dust and spread; 

So grass shall grow more green below. 

Trees more green overhead, 

And youth and love laugh on above 

Those well- forgotten dead. 



The Forerunner 



161 



THE WILD OATS OF THE SOUL 



WHEN Humanity was young, 
very young, its new-born 
Consciousness loomed large 
within ; and each Individual 
naturally supposed this mighty feel- 
ing to be his own. 

He called it His Soul. 

He felt it to be different from the 
Body, which he called Himself; from 
the group of inherited reflexes he 
called His Heart ; different even from 
those Percepts and Processes he called 
His Mind. 

It was a big uneasy pushing thing, 
now up, now down ; patently at vari- 
ance with the personal activities he 
called Life, always irritating him with 
a desire for something farther. 

To feed, to quiet, to satisfy this 
young Soul, the mind of man began to 
spin whole worlds of Theory, religious 
and emotional — it did not want to 
think, it wanted to feel, to feel strongly. 
No matter how gross and cruel were 
the Religions he first invented, the 
ardent boisterous Young Soul plunged 
gaily in, and lived them to the full. 

In passionate ecstacy of self-torture, 
in life-long immolation of anguished 
self-surrender, and in merciless op- 
pression of all who dared to differ, 
this huge force poured itself out re- 
sistlessly. 

There were no limits to the excesses 
of the wild Young Soul. Our poor 
instincts were as nothing in its path ; 
all common duties, all common plea- 
sures, all common relations it ate in 
a consuming fire; and those who had 
not so much Soul, bowed down to those 
who had. 

But the Soul, growing from the care- 
less cruelty of infancy to the period of 
Ambition and Romance, outgrew its 
taste for mutilation and torture, and 
found new channels for its growing 
powers. 

Into the swelling hearts of Kings 
and Conquerors it poured itself, first 
in a mad rage for Conquest, then in 
the growing glory of Statesmanship. 

In art it found a fascinating medium 
of expression; and to this day streams 
fitfully along in form and color, sound 



and motion ; though not so nobly as 
of yore. 

But its favorite outlet now was 
along lines of love, not through the 
still-locked doors of wide human af- 
fection, but in the unbroken sweep of 
love for an idea. 

Urged by the growing demands of 
our Great Prisoner, we built for it new 
ideas of God; God as a Person, lov- 
ing us and pining for our love. 

Then rose the Soul and flowed forth 
into space, triumphant. 

Its gathering power, reflected from 
our lives, poured in wide waves of 
spiritual passion ; while we, relieved of 
its compelling presence, were free to 
plod along old easy paths of primitive 
self-interest. 

In those minds which could not erect 
the God-idea to a sufficiently attract- 
ive height and intensity (and they 
were many), the one next to it was the 
idea of sublimating the love of men 
and women. 

Allied and interwoven are these two 
lines, and the still childish Soul, hasty 
and undiscerning, rushed into both 
with equal ardor ; spending hot per- 
sonal devotion upon God ; and making 
an exacting worship out of human 
love ; with failure in either branded 
apostasy. 

Soul-driven man, in mad excesses 
of emotion, worshipping now God and 
now Woman (seldom both at once), 
has filled wide fields of history with 
the fruitless sheaves of the Wild Oats 
of the Soul. 

His passionate adoration of God re- 
sulted in magnificent churches and as 
magnificent sentiments, but did little 
to promote the work of social de- 
velopment. 

His passoniate adoration of \\'oman 
(that is of his woman), has resulted in 
forming a creature not magnificent but 
pitiful, and all his crimson glory of 
wild worship has not prevented him 
from degrading and exploiting her. 

The hot-headed ill-directed young 
Soul, pushing violently and irregularly 
along, has mostly spent its force upon 
wrong impulses. 



162 



That Obvious Purpose 



Now new ideas of God have come to 
us, and new ideas of Man, and we 
begin to see the normal use of our 
Great Common Power in lines of 
natural living. 

This is Our Soul, not mine and 
yours ; its force is The Force of the 
Universe. 

It is not meant to "rest," it does 
not need to be "saved," its one legiti- 
mate demand is to be Used. 



God pushes — we must act. No one 
love can satisfy the Soul ; only to feel 
and fill them all ; and then to Serve ; 
no frenzied emotion is this Soul's life, 
but strong and steady action; its vast 
power of Feeling used in vast fields of 
Doing. 

The Soul must settle into happy 
orderly relations with the world. 

A reformed Soul makes the best 
Social Servant. 



THAT OBVIOUS PURPOSE 



DR. SARGENT, of the Depart- 
ment of Physical Culture at 
Harvard, is again quoted on 
the subject of the strength of 
women. He says — or is said to ha^^^e 
said, in this report — that in the sense 
of being more enduring, women are su- 
perior to men ; and then falls back on 
that common and ancient androcentric 
idea : "It is obvious that women are 
built primarily with a single fixed and 
definite purpose in view. This is the 
bearing of children. Other characteris- 
tics which can be ascribed to women 
in general, radiate from this one pri- 
mordial characteristic." 

Quite possibly Dr. Sargent is misrep- 
resented by the reporter, but the idea 
is thrust forth again, as it has been so 
many times before. 

Is it not time that persons with some 
knowledge of biology began to acknowl- 
edge that this old idea is wrong? 
It is true, of course, that females, as 
such, are modified to the reproduction 
of their species ; but so are males. It 
is obvious that men are built primarily 
with a single fixed and definite pur- 
pose, and that other special male char- 
acteristics radiate from this primordial 
one — often painfully obvious. 

It is equally obvious that men and 
women have a preponderating array of 
common human characteristics which 
have no relation whatever to the pri- 
mordial one. The erect posture, for in- 
stance ; the degree of intellect common 
to human beings; the instinct of w^ork- 
manship ; the interest in scientific truth 
and the pursuit of knowledge ; the love 



of nature, of art, of amusement — in 
short, all human characteristics ; these 
belong to us as a race, as human crea- 
tures, not as sexes. 

If women had no other relation to 
life than that of a queen bee, this cease- 
less insistance on their feminine func- 
tions might be justified, but, being 
what they are, it is only explicable as 
a piece of androcentric prejudice pure 
and simple. 

If some great overturn in public 
thought and feeling should come to 
pass so that the eyes of the world be- 
came fixed with staring intensity on 
the maleness of men ; if all education, 
literature and art rang the changes 
upon it continually, and even science 
came solemnly along with platitudes 
about the obviousness of masculine 
characteristics, there would be a prompt 
and just rebellion on the part of men. 

Women are more patient. We have 
been discussed and studied, honored 
and despised, rewarded and punished 
for thousands of years as females, al- 
ways females ; and many of us have 
grown to accept the male idea of us — 
that we are nothing else. 

Several millions of unmarried 
women now filling useful and honored 
places in the world, leading virtuous 
and contented lives, could give valua- 
ble testimony as to whether their exis- 
tence is a verifiable fact^ or whether 
they really did expire and vanish on 
failure to fulfill that "single primordial 
purpose." Men, living similarly, would 
perhaps feel as much lack in the 
"primordial purpose" as do women. 



The Forerunner 



163 



MOVING THE MOUNTAIN 



Synopsis: John Robertson, falling over a 
precipice in Tibet, loses all recollection for 
thirty years. He is found by his sister, re- 
covers his memory, and returns home. On 
the way he learns of great changes in his na- 
tive land, and is not pleased. Arriving, he 
cannot deny some improvements, but is still 
dissatisfied. New food and new housekeeping 
arrangements impress him ; better buildings 
and great saving in money. As man to man 
his new brother-in-law tells him of the change 
in women and its effect on men. 

CHAPTER VI. 

OUT OF the mass of information 
offered by my new family and 
the pleasant friends we met, 
together with the books and 
publications profusely piling" around 
me, I felt it necessary to make a spec- 
ies of digest for my own consideration. 
This I submitted to Nellie, Owen, and 
one or two others, adding suggestions 
and corrections ; and thus established 
in my own mind a coherent view of 
what had happened. 

In the first place, as Owen repeat- 
edly assured me, nothing was done — 
finished — brought to static perfection. 

"Thirty years isn't much, you see," 
he said cheerfully. "I dare say if you'd 
been here all along you wouldn't think 
it was such a great advance. We have 
removed some obvious and utterly un- 
necessary evils, and cleared the ground 
for new beginnings ; but what we are 
going to do is the exciting thing! 

"Now you think it is so wonderful 
that we have no poverty. We think 
it is still more wonderful that a world 
of even partially sane people could 
have borne poverty so long." 

We naturally discussed this point a 
good deal, and they brought up a little 
party of the new economists to en- 
lighten me — Dr. Harkness, sociologist; 
Mr. Alfred Brown, Department of Pro- 
duction; Mrs. Allerton of the Local 
Transportation Bureau ; and a young 
fellow named Pike, who had written a 
little book on "Distinctive Changes of 
Three Decades," which I found very 
useful. 

"It was such a simple matter, after 
all, you see," the Sociologist explained 
to me, in an amiable class-room man- 
ner. 



"Suppose now you were considering 
the poverty of one family, an isolated 
family, sir. Now, if this family was 
poor, it would be due to the limitations 
of the individual or of the environ- 
ment. Limitations of the individual 
would cover inefficiency, false theory 
of industry, ill-judged division of labor, 
poor system of production, or misuse 
of product. Limitation of environment 
would, of course, apply to climate, soil, 
natural products, etc. No amount of 
health, intelligence or virtue could 
make Iceland rich — if it was complete- 
ly isolated ; nor England, for that mat- 
ter, owing to the inexorable limita- 
tions of that environment. 

"Here in this country we have no 
complaint to make of our natural re- 
sources. The soil is capable of sus- 
taining an enormous population. So 
we have merely to consider the limita- 
tions of individuals, transferring our 
problem from the isolated family to the 
general public. 

"What do we find? All the limita- 
tions I enumerated ! Inefficiency — 
nearly every one below par in work- 
ing power in the generation before 
last, as well as miserably educated; 
false theories of industry everywhere 
— idiotic notions as to what work was 
'respectable' and what wasn't, more 
idotic notions of payment; worst of all, 
most idotic idea that work was a curse 
. . . Might as well call digestion a 
curse ! Dear ! Dear ! How benighted 
we were ! 

"Then there was ill-judged division 
of labor — almost universal ; that evil 
For instance, look at this one point; 
half the workers of the w^orld, nearly, 
were restricted to one class of labor, 
and that in the lowest industrial 
grade." 

"He means women, in housework, 
John," Nellie interpolated. "We never 
used to think of that as part of our 
economic problem." 

"It was a very serious part," the pro- 
fessor continued, hastily forestalling 
the evident intention of Mr. Brown to 
strike in, "but there were many others. 
The obvious utility of natural special- 
ization in labor seemed scarcely to oc- 



164 



Moving the Mountain 



cur to us. Our system of production 
was archaic in the extreme ; practically 
710 system was followed." 

"You must give credit to the work 
of the Department of Agriculture, Dr. 
Harkness," urged Mr. Brown, "the in- 
troduction of new fruits, the improve- 
ment of stocks " 

"Yes, yes," agreed Dr. Harkness, 
"the rudiments were there, of course ; 
but no real grasp of organized produc- 
tivity. And as to misuse of product — 
why, my dear Mr. Robertson, it is a 
wonder anybody had enough to live on 
in those days, in view of our criminal 
waste. 

"The real turning point, Mr. Robert- 
son, if we can put our finger on one, 
is where the majority of the people 
recognized the folly and evil of pov- 
erty — and saw it to be a thing of our 
own making. We saw that our worst 
poverty was poverty in the stock — that 
we raised a terrible percentage of poor 
people. Then we established a tem- 
porary Commission on Human effic- 
iency, away back in 1913 or 14 — " 

"Thirteen," put in Mr. Pike, who sat 
back listening to Dr. Harkness with an 
air of repressed superiority. 

"Thank you," said the eminent So- 
ciologist courteously. "These young 
fellows have it all at their fingers' 
ends Mr. Robertson. Better methods 
in education nowadays, far better ! As 
I was saying, we established a Com- 
mission on Human Efficiency." 

"You will remember the dawning 
notions of 'scientific management' we 
began to have in the first decade of the 
new century," Mrs. AUerton quietly 
suggested. "It occurred to us later to 
apply it to ourselves — and we did." 

"The Commission found that the 
majority of human beings were not 
properly reared," Dr. Harkness re- 
sumed," with a resultant low standard 
of efficiency — shockingly low ; and that 
the loss was not merely to the individ- 
ual but to the community. Then So- 
ceity stretched out a long arm and 
took charge of the work of humanicul- 
ture — began to lift the human stand- 
ard. 

"I won't burden you with details on 
that line at present; it touched but 
one cause of poverty after all. The 



false theory of industry was next to be 
changed. A few far-seeing persons 
were already writing and talking about 
work as an organic social function, but 
the sudden spread of it came through 
the new religion." 

"And the new voters, Dr. Hark- 
ness," my sister added. 

He smiled at her benevolently. A 
large, comfortable, full-bearded, rosy 
old gentleman was Dr. Harkness, and 
evidently in full enjoyment of his pres- 
ent task. 

"Let us never forget the new voters, 
of course. They have ceased to be 
thought of as new, Mr. Robertson — 
so easily does the human mind accept 
established conditions. The new re- 
ligion urged work — normal, well- 
adapted work — as the duty of life — as 
life itself; and the new voters accepted 
this idea as one woman. 

"They were, as a class, used to do- 
ing their duty in patient industry, gen- 
erally distasteful to them ; and the op- 
portunity of doing work they liked — 
with a sense of higher duty added — 
was universally welcomed." 

"I certainly remember a large class 
of women who practiced no industry 
at all — no duty either, unless what 
they called 'social duties,' " I rather 
sourly remarked. Mrs. Allerton took 
me up with sudden heat : 

"Yes, there were such, in large num- 
bers, in our great cities particularly; 
but public opinion was rising against 
them even as far back as 1910. The 
more progressive women turned the 
light on them first, and then men took 
it up and began to see that this domes- 
tic pet was not only expensive and use- 
less but injurious and absurd. I don't 
suppose we can realize," she continued 
meditatively, "how complete the 
change in public opinion is — and how 
supremely important. In visible ma- 
terial progress we have only followed 
simple lines, quite natural and obvious, 
and accomplished what was perfectly 
possible at any time — if we had only 
thought so." 

"That's the point!" Mr. Pike was 
unable to preserve his air of restraint 
any longer, and burst forth voluably. 

"That was the greatest, the most 
sudden, the most vital of our changes, 



The Forerunner 



165 



sir — the change in the world's thought ! 
Ideas are the real things, sir! Brick 
and mortar? Bah! We can put brick 
and mortar in any shape we choose — 
but we have to choose first ! What 
held the old world back was not facts 
— not conditions — not any material 
limitations, or psychic limitations 
either. We had every constituent of 
human happiness, sir — except the 
sense to use them. The channel of 
progress was obstructed with a deposit 
of prehistoric ideas. We choked up 
our children's minds with this mental 
refuse as we choked our rivers and 
harbors with material refuse, sir." 

Dr. Harkness still smiled. "Mr. Pike 
was in my class ten years ago," he ob- 
served amiably. "I always said he 
was the brightest young man I had. 
We are all very proud of Mr. Pike." 

Mr. Pike seemed not over pleased 
with this communication, and the old 
gentleman went on : 

"He is entirely right. Our idiotic 
ideas and theories were the main 
causes of poverty after all. The new 
views on economics — true social econ- 
omics, not the 'dismal science' ; with 
the blaze of the new religion to show 
what was right and wrong, and the 
sudden uprising of half the adult world 
— the new voters — to carry out the 
new ideas ; these were what changed 
things ! There you have it, Mr. Rob- 
ertson, in a nutshell — rather a large 
nutshell, a pericarp, as it were — but I 
think that covers it." 

"We students used always to admire 
Dr. Harkness' power of easy generali- 
zation," said Mr. Pike, in a mild, sub- 
acid tone, "but if any ground of in- 
quiry is left to you, Mr. Robertson, 
I could, perhaps, illuminate some spec- 
ial points." 

Dr. Harkness laughed in high good 
humor, and clapped his whilom pupil 
on the back. 

"You have the floor, Mr. Pike — I 
shall listen to you with edification." 

The young man looked a little 
ashamed of his small irony, and contin- 
ued more genially: 

"Our first step — or one of our first 
steps, for we advanced like a strenuous 
centipede — was to check the birth of 
defectives and degenerates. Certain 



classes of criminals and perverts were 
rendered incapable of reproducing 
their kind. In the matter of those dis- 
eases most injurious to the young, very 
stringent measures were taken. It was 
made a felony to infect wife or child 
knowingly, and a misdemeanor if it 
were done unknowingly. Physicians 
were obliged to report all cases of in- 
fectious disease, and young girls were 
clearly taught the consequence of mar- 
riage with infected persons. The im- 
mediate result was, of course, a great 
decrease in marriage ; but the increase 
in population was scarce checked at all 
because of the lowered death rate 
among children. It was checked a lit- 
tle ; but for twenty years now, it has 
been recovering itself. We increase a 
little too fast now, but see every hope 
of a balanced population long before 
the resources of the world are ex- 
hausted." 

•Mr. Brown seized upon a second 
moment's pause to suggest that the 
world's resources were vastly in- 
creased also — and still increasing. 

"Let Pike rest a moment and get 
his breath," he said, warming to the 
subject, "I want to tell Mr. Robertson 
that the productivity of the earth is 
gaining every year. Here's this old 
earth feeding us all — laying golden 
eggs as it were ; and we used to get 
those eggs by the Caesarian operation! 
We uniformly exhausted the soil — uni- 
formly ! Now a man would no more 
think of injuring the soil, the soil that 
feeds him, than he would of hurting his 
mother. We steadily improve the soil; 
we improve the seed ; we improve 
methods of culture ; we improve every- 
thing." 

Mrs. Allerton struck in here, "Not 
forgetting the methods of transporta- 
tion, Mr. Robertson. There was one 
kind of old world folly which made 
great waste of labor and time ; that 
was our constant desire to eat things 
out of season. There is now a truer 
sense of what is really good eating; 
no one wants to eat asparagus that is 
not of the best, and asparagus cut five 
or ten days cannot be really good. We 
do not carry things about unnecessar- 
ily ; and the carrying Ave do is swift, 
easy and economical. For slow freight 



166 



Moving the Mountain 



we use waterways wherever possible — 
you will be pleased to see the 'all-water 
routes' that thread the country now. 
And our roads — you haven't seen our 
roads yet ! We lead the world." 

"We used to be at the foot of the 
class as to roads, did we not?" I asked; 
and Mr. Pike swiftly answered : 

"We did, indeed, sir. But that very 
need of good roads made easy to us the 
second step in abolishing poverty. 
Here was a great social need calling 
for labor; here were thousands upon 
thousands of mien calling for employ- 
ment ; and here were we keeping the 
supply from the demand by main 
strength — merely from those archaic 
ideas of ours. 

"We had a mass of valuable data al- 
ready collected, and now that the 
whole country teemed with new ideals 
of citizenship and statesmanship, it 
did not take very long to get the two 
together." 

"We furnished employment for all 
the women, too," my sister added. "A 
Social Service Union was formed the 
country over ; it was part of the new 
religion. Every town has one — men 
and women. The same spirit that 
used to give us crusaders and mission- 
aries now gave plenty of enthusiastic 
workers." 

"I don't see yet how you got up any 
enthusiasm about work," said I. 

"It was not work for oneself," 
Nellie explained. That is what used to 
make it so sordid ; we used really to 
believe that we were working each 
for himself. This new idea was over- 
whelming in its simplicity — and truth ; 
work is social service — social service is 
religion — that's about it." 

"Not only so," Dr. Harkness added, 
"it made a three-fold appeal ; to the 
old deep-seated religious sense ; to the 
new, vivid intellectual acceptance ; and 
to the very widespread, wholesome 
appreciation of a clear advantage. 

"When a thing was offered to the 
world that agreed with every social 
instinct, that appeal to common sense, 
that was established by the highest 
scientific authority, and that had the 
overwhelming sanction of religion — 
why the world took to it." 

"But it is surely not natural to peo- 



less to like to 



pie to work — much 
work !" I protested. 

"There's where the change comes 
in," Mr. Pike eagerly explained. "We 
used to think that people hated work 
— nothing of the sort! What people 
hated was too much work, which is 
death ; work they were personally unfit 
for and therefore disliked, which is tor- 
ture ; work under improper conditions, 
which is disease; work held contempti- 
ble, looked down upon by other people, 
which is a grievous social distress ; and 
work so ill-paid that no human beings 
could really live by it." 

"Why Mr. Robertson, if you can 
throw any light on the now incon- 
ceivable folly of that time so utterly 
behind us, we shall be genuinely in- 
debted to you. It was quite under- 
stood in your day that the whole 
world's life, comfort, prosperity and 
progress depended upon the work done, 
was it not?" 

"Why, of course; that was an econ- 
omic platitude," I answered. 

"Then why were the workers pun- 
ished for doing it?" 

"Punished? What do you mean?" 

"I mean just what I say. They were 
punished, just as we punish criminals 
— with confinement at hard labor. The 
great mass of the people were forced 
to labor for cruelly long hours at dull, 
distasteful occupations ; is not that 
punishment?" 

"Not at all," I said hotly. "They 
were free at any time to leave an occu- 
pation they did not like." 

"Leave it for what alternative?" 

"To take up another," said I, per- 
ceiving that this, after all, was not 
much of an escape. 

"Yes, to take up another under the 
same heavy conditions, if there was any 
opening; or to starve — that was their 
freedom." 

"Well, what would you have?" I 
asked. "A man must work for his living 
surely." 

"Remember your economic plati- 
tude, Mr. Robertson," Dr. Harlcness 
sugo-ested. "The whole world's life, 
comfort, prosperity and progress de- 
pends upon the work done, you know. 
It was not their living they were work- 
ins: for ; it was the world's." 



The Forerunner 



167 



"That is very pretty as a sentiment." 
I was beginning ; but his twinkling eye 
reminded me that an economic plati- 
tude is not precisely sentimental. 

"That's where the change came," Mr. 
Pike eagerly repeated. "The idea that 
each man had to do it for himself kept 
us blinded to the fact that it was all 
social service ; that they worked for the 
world, and the world treated them 
shamefully — so shamefully that their 
product was deteriorated, markedly de- 
teriorated." 

"You will be continually surprised, 
Mr. Robertson, at the improvement of 
our output," remarked Mr. Brown. 
"We have standards in every form of 
manufacture, required standards ; and 
to label an article incorrectly is a mis- 
demeanor." 

"That was just starting in the pure 
food agitation, you remember," my sis- 
ter put in — ('with apple juice containing 
one-tenth of one per cent, of benzoate 
of soda).'" 

"And now," Mr. Brown continued, 
" 'all wool' is all wool ; if it isn't, you 
can have the dealer arrested. Silk is 
silk, nowadays, and cream is cream." 

"And 'caveat emptor' is a dead let- 
ter?" 

"Yes, it is 'caveat vendor' now You 
see, selling goods is public service." 

"You apply that term quite different- 
ly from what it stood for in my mem- 
ory," said I. 

"It used to mean some sort of bene- 
ficent statesmanship, at first," Nellie 
agreed. "Then it spread to various 
philanthropic efforts and wider grades 
of government activities. Now it means 
any kind of world work." 

She saw that this description did not 
carry much weight with me, and added, 
"Any kind of human work, John ; that 
is, work a man gives his whole time 
to and does not himself consume, is 
world work — is social service." 

"If a man raises, by his own labor, 
just enough corn to feed himselt — that 
is working for himself," Mr. Brown ex- 
plained, "but if he raises more corn 
than he consumes, he is serving" hu- 
manity." 

"But he does not give it away," I 
urged : "he is paid for it." 

"Well, you paid the doctor who 



saved your child's life, but the doctor's 
work was social service none the less — 
and the teacher's — anybody's." 

"But that kind of work benefits hu- 
manity — " 

"Yes, and does it not benefit human- 
ity to eat — to have shoes and clothes 
and houses? John, John, wake up!" 
Nellie for the first time showed impa- 
tience with me. But my brother-in- 
law extended a protecting arm. 

"Now, Nellie, don't hurry him. This 
thing will burst upon him all at one" 
Of course it's glaringly plain, but there 
was a time when you and I did not see 
it either." 

I was a little sulky. "Well, as far 
as I gather." and I took out my note 
book, "people all of a sudden changed 
all their ideas about everythmg — and 
your demi-millenium followed.'' 

"I wish we could say that." said Mrs. 
Allerton. "We are not telling you of 
our present day problems and difficul- 
ties, you see. No, Mr. Robertson, we 
have merely removed our most obvious 
and patently unnecessary difficulties, 
of which poverty was at least the larg- 
est. 

"What we did, as we have rather 
confusedly suggested, I'm afraid, was 
to establish such measures as to insure 
better births, and vastly better environ- 
ment and education for e^jpry child. 
That raised the standard of the people, 
you see, and increased their efficiency. 
Then we provided emnlnvi-nent for 
everyone, under good conditions, and 
improved the world in two ways at 
once." 

"And who paid for this universal em- 
ployment?" I asked. 

"Who paid for it before?" she re- 
turned promptly. 

"The employer, of course." 

"Did he? Out of his own private 
pocket? At a loss to himself," 

"Why, of course not," I replied, a lit- 
tle nettled. "Out of the profits of the 
business." 

"And 'the business' was the work 
done by the employees?" 

"Not at all ! He did it himself ; they 
only furnished the labor." 

"Could he do it alone — without 
'labor?' Did he furnish employment 
as a piece of beneficence, outside of his 



168 



"N. G. 



business — Ah, Mr. Robertson, surely it 
is clear that unless a man's labor lur- 
nished a profit to his employer, he 
would not be employed. It was on 
that profit that 'labor' was paid — they 
paid themselves. They do now, but at 
a higher rate." 

I was annoyed by this clever jug- 
gling with the hard facts of business. 

"That is very convincing, Mrs. Aller- 
ton," I said with some warmth, "but it 
imfortunately omits certain factors. A 
lot of laborers could make a given arti- 
cle, of course ; but they could not sell 
it — and that is where the profit comes 
in. What good would it do the laborer 
to pile up goods if he could not sell 
them?" 

"And what good would be the ability 
to sell goods if there were none, Mr. 
Robertson. Of course I recognize the 
importance of transportation : that is 
my own line of work, but there must 
be something to transport. As long 



ago as St. Paul's day it was known that 
the hand could not say to the foot, I 
have no need of thee.' " 

"To cover that ground more easily, 
Mr. Robertson," Dr. Harkness ex- 
plained, "just put down in your digest 
there that Bureaus of Employment 
were formed all over the country; 
some at first were of individual initia- 
tive, but in a few years' time all were 
in government management. There 
was a swift and general improvement 
in the whole country. The roads be- 
came models to the world, the harbors 
were cleared, canals dug, cities rebuilt, 
bare hills reforested, the value of our 
national property doubled and trebeled 
— all owing to the employment of 
hitherto neglected labor. Out of the 
general increase of wealth they got 
their share, of course. And where 
there is work for everyone, at good 
wages, there is no poverty ; that's 
clearly seen." 

{To be covtinued) 



N. G." 



THE non-voting companionship 
of women with "idiots, lunatics, 
and criminals" has been sus- 
tained for a long while, only a 
comparatively few openly resenting it ; 
but are women to accept with patience 
this new census classification? 

The initials "N. G." are used to indi- 
cate the status of all women who are 
not wage-earners. This does not mean 
"no good," as is irresistably suggested, 
but merely "non-gainful ;" and in itself 
furnishes food for thought. While we 
are thinking of it, let us include in our 
meditations a new group sharing the 
shelter of these initials. 

We are told that the new census bu- 
reau has issued verbal orders to its 
tabulating clerks to classify prostitutes 
as "N. G." 

Statistics on the "social evil" are of 
the most vital importance to the na- 
tion. Why should they be suppressed? 
Are these women so frightfully numer- 



ous that the authorities fear to have 
their numbers known? A most mis- 
taken policy; the worse the case is the 
more fully we ought to know it. 

Are they so few as to be negligible? 
We ought to know that also. 

We have figures for the waitresses, 
mill-workers, milliners, dressmakers, 
and so on ; but these unfortunates, 
whose names and addresses have been 
secured with all the others, are now to 
be obliterated professionally. 

Since they must be concealed, an(« 
could not, apparently, be sheltered 
under the mantle of any industrial 
workers, they have been added to the 
ranks of daughters, wives and mothers 
living at home. 

May it be suggested, from the point 
of view of an equal suffragist, that if 
women were responsible for these sta- 
tistics they would have done quite 
otherwise. 



The Forerunner 



169 



COMMENT AND REVIEW 



*'The New Machiaveli," by H. G. Wells, Duf- 
field & Co., New York. $1.35 net. 

In times past, when an unusual 
woman showed marked capacity in 
some Hne of human service, all were 
quick to see and point out with scorn 
or pity, the "feminine limitations" of 
her work. It was done "like a 
woman," they said ; it was "womanish ;" 
it was to be grudgingly measured as 
"good — for a woman," if good at all. 

Now we are beginning to use some- 
thing of the opposite point of view in 
regard to men's achievements ; and we 
need it, constantly, in considering the 
work of Mr. H. G. Wells 

The masculine limitations of this au- 
thor are marked and persistent. He 
sees life wholly from the side of sex — 
his sex ; and when, as in this last book, 
he frankly announces himself "femin- 
ist," it is only sex in woman which he 
sees, and for which he demands social 
recognition. 

Of course it is difficult for a man to 
overcome this bias, more so than for a 
woman ; yet many great men have 
been able to do it. Mr. Wells has not. 

Note this record of masculine emo- 
tion and conduct, its morbid excesses 
blasting an otherwise valuable life — 
indeed several of them — yet discussed 
with naive solemnity as if it was all in 
the necessary order of nature. 

The book tells of a boy somewhat 
unfortunate in birth and breeding, as 
most of us are ; growing up to keen- 
minded speculation on human life, its 
pressing needs and problems ; yet in 
all this wide sociological interest to- 
tally oblivious to such a predominating 
social question as the woman's move- 
ment. 

The girl he passes in the street who 
stirs his boyish sensations ; the women 
of his frankly told experiences ; the 
woman he marries — "I suppose it was 
because I had so great a need of such 
help as her whiteness proffered," he 
says ; "I wanted a woman to save me ;" 
— and the next one with whom he 
overwhelmingly falls in love; these are 
real to him ; and one other, mercilessly 
caricatured. These impress him ; but 
the change in social relation of thou- 



sands does not impress him. The 
work is powerful and clear ; the view 
of the present confusion of methods, 
especially in the rearing of young peo- 
ple, is vividly appealing; but the criti- 
cisms of political life show a strange 
lack of adjustment in eyes that see so 
far. 

To be in the immediate workings of 
the political department of the social 
body must necessarily be confusing. 

The social philosopher can see an 
ordered procession of changes for cen- 
turies ahead, but the politician must 
introduce those changes step by step — 
with some heat. 

The worst thing about this book is 
the spirit of personal enmity it reveals ; 
the Dantesque consigning of enemies 
to the hell of a wickedly clever carica- 
turization. Little London, where 
everybody who is anybody knows 
everybody else, buzzed madly over the 
book. 

This is pitiful work. If there was 
no personal animus in this bitter ridi- 
cule, it shows sheer malice. If there 
was a personal ground, it implicates 
the author with his creation most pain- 
fully. 

Mr. Wells is easily among the first 
of those who are kindled with the so- 
cial consciousness, and able to spread 
the light and heat of it to others. His 
work is extremely able, though irregu- 
lar; and with his unrivalled imagina- 
tion, wide scientific knowledge, and 
highly developed art, he ought to be 
one of the prime movers of the world 
today. But here enter the disabilities 
of sex. Not only, as in this tale, is a 
mans' political life ruined by open 
scandal, but the artist, scientist, and 
publicist is cut off from highest use- 
fulness by this constant limitation. 



In a publication whose popularity 
proves its knowledge of the prevailing 
tastes of the man in the street, has 
been running a story most pleasing and 
absorbing to that man. With passion- 
ate eagerness he read it from week to 
week, discussed it with his friends, 
commented sagely on its florid phil- 
osophy. 



170 



Comment and Review 



This story is "The Grain of Dust," 
by the late David Graham Phillips. 

It is a man's story, utterly; mascu- 
line from start to finish; with woman 
only thrown in as a background; the 
vain and shallow fiancee, the vain and 
shallow sister, the vain and shallow 
girl who served as a grain of dust to 
stop the action of the hero's "works" ; 
— not that she had power even to do that 
— the power was all in him ! 

" 'It isn't the woman who makes a 
fool of the man,' said Norman, 'it's the 
man who makes a fool of himself !' " 

The most amusing feature of the 
book is this; the ultra-male hero; vain 
beyond belief, brutally self-confident, 
unprincipled as a fish, indififerent to 
any intersts but his own, self-indul- 
gent to a degree which would have 
made him a shameful wreck in five 
years had not the author endowed him 
with a magic immunity to all excesses ; 
and first, last and always the ceaseless 
mouthpiece of an egotism unmeasured 
and unashamed ; this man dwells con- 
tinually on the vanity and egotism of 
women ! 

Because a girl, the efifect of whose 
marvellous everchanging beauty forms 
the subject matter of the story, thinks 
she is beautiful — therefore she is a 
monument of the egotism of her sex ! 

Because another girl whom this lov- 
able hero was about to marry for her 
beauty, money and position, and who 
was somewhat in love with him ; really 
expected him to love her; really re- 
sented his loving another woman while 
relentlessly going on to marry her 
for business purposes ; and really rec- 
ognized in herself the beauty, wealth 
and position he was marrying her for 
— she was another monument of femi- 
nine egotism. 

It would seem on the face of it that 
if one wished to write a book to estab- 
lish the utter incapacity, selfishness 
and vanity of women ; one would 
choose a type of that sort, and sur- 
round her with the effective contrast 
of useful, noble, modest and unselfish 
men. Such a woman, so exhibited, 
should exert her arts in vain upon 
these noble characters. 

In this story, however, we have for 



our heroine a quiet, lovely girl, effi- 
cient and devoted as a daughter; self- 
supporting and self-respecting under 
long temptation; finally choosing to 
marry her chief pursuer even without 
"love," preferring his wealth and pro- 
fessed devotion to long poverty and 
possible failure and shame : a deed at 
worst no more to be condemned than 
his earlier attempt. 

His wealth, by the way, was non- 
existent when he married her — he de- 
liberately deceived her in this; and his 
"love" vanished on the morning after. 
Thereafter he treats her as an upper 
servant, whose only business in life is 
to minister to his personal comfort — 
whose only claim on him was for "sup- 
port ;" and in her new efforts to please 
him, forgetting that she had done the 
work of a house for years and cared 
tenderly for an absent-minded father, 
while at the same time earning her 
living at distasteful labor, he is at 
great pains to show her pitifully inef- 
ficient, and never more than moder- 
ately successful. 

And we can never ask the author if 
this book was really meant as a satire 
on men ! 

"The Players of London." Written 
by Louise Beecher Chancellor, deco- 
rated by Harry B. Matthews, Pub- 
lished by B. W. Dodge Company, New 
York, 1909. 

This is not a new book, in the strict 
publisher's sense, but it is an ex- 
tremely attractive one, with its 
binding of lilac and gold, its pro- 
fuse inner trimmings of lilac, and 
vivid illuminations in black and white. 
The story is a simple one, of the 
days of Good Queen Bess, with no 
less a person for the hero than Master 
Will. Shakespere; and for the heroine, 
the first woman to appear on the Eng- 
lish stage. It does seem strange indeed 
for Romeo and Juliet to be writ- 
ten with the expectation of some 
lad's taking the part of that passionate 
young heroine. But this appears to 
be what Shakspere did. How he was 
misled in the matter, for what noble 
purpose and to what poor end, is 
shown in this old world tale. 



The Forerunner 

THE HOME 

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